


The Tip of My Tongue (The Stage)

by LadyKatie512



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Age Difference, Best Friends, Codename Wanderer, Deacon needs a hug, Deacon tells the truth for a second, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fallout, Fallout 4 - Freeform, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Torture, Obsession, One-Sided Relationship, Overprotective, Sole needs a hug, The Railroad, This is why you can't romance Deacon, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-10-10 10:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKatie512/pseuds/LadyKatie512
Summary: Deacon couldn't risk losing his constant, the thing that kept him sane all these years. The only thing is, he was going to lose her either way.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a short piece meant for me to deal with not being able to Romance Deacon, but... well... It blew up. This is undergoing heavy editing. The kind of heavy editing that puts this as the third story in a three or four part series. I didn't abandon this, and I'm still adding more every day but any updates may be a while off.

“Come on,” he grumbled, watching the barely functioning PipBoy flicker off before small green text began scrolling across the screen, _again_. He had managed to barter the piece of junk, along with a vault suit for all intensive purposes, off an ex-dweller of Vault 81 just two days ago for nearly a thousand caps. He used to pride himself with being able to haggle everyone down, but he ended up trekking to Vault 111 with a wounded ego and a better understanding of price gouging.

The screen finally came back on for him and he tried again, gingerly pulling the plug from the PipBoy out and shoving it into the control panel he was standing before. There was a sudden “ _click!_ ” and the cover for the big red button unlatched itself. 

“Finally,” he sighed and jammed his fist into the large button. Almost immediately sirens began blaring and he ducked down behind the controls, wondering if he had messed something up. Instead, the massive Vault 111 door pulled backwards and began to roll off to the side, opening the vault to Deacon.

His heart sped up, unsure what he would find in the last known but unexplored vault of the Commonwealth. The moment he learned about it he was hooked, gathering as much information as he could. So far, there wasn’t much except that almost 90% of the Commonwealth believed it to be destroyed or that all the dwellers had all died. He soon believed the latter to be true, noting the dry skeletons of Vault-Tec employees strewn about. He did find an odd absence of actual Dwellers, be they corpses or living, and a quick hack into a terminal gave him more information.

There had been some sort of mutiny, after the Vault was supposed to open in 2078, however the Overseer was never given an OK. There wasn’t much else on any of the other terminals and everything, all entries he could find ended on the same day. He did, however, learn the fate of the Dwellers. When the bombs fell in 2077, the Dwellers were tricked into being frozen in Cryopods, and that’s where they remained, for two centuries.

He searched them all, not finding a single survivor, as his mind raced with thoughts of talking to a person who lived before this apocalypse. Not willing to give up, he checked the last pods, the terminal making his heart skip a beat when it said there was one sole survivor, one living and breathing relic still alive, an Artemis Wright. She was across from her husband, Nate Wright, and infant son Shaun, according to the terminal.

However this was not the case when Deacon made his way down the row of dead Dwellers. There was in fact a man across from the pod he was headed to, however there was no infant, just a bloody and frozen bullet wound in his chest.

Holding his breath, he turned around and walked up to Artemis. He expected her to be holding the infant, but instead she had both of her hands frozen to the door of her Cryopod. She looked as if she had been frozen in the middle of crying, her body slumped awkwardly to one side, mouth slightly open, dark and thin eyebrows knitted together, her black hair askew with frost.

Deacon looked back to her husband and couldn’t help but wonder why someone would want him dead, and where the hell was the kid? He double checked the other pods and nobody looked disturbed, not like Artemis, and nobody was shot like Nate. And nobody was missing, like the infant Shaun.

In the end he couldn’t bring himself to wake the woman up, unsure if she would live through the defrosting or not. Instead he did the next best thing and made his way back to the surface. He was heading for Sanctuary Hills, the old neighborhood the vault overlooked, wondering if there was any remnants of Artemis’ life there.

He was caught off guard, something that never happened to him, as he walked down the old street, looking for a mailbox marked “Wright”.

“Good day to you, sir,” he heard and turned on his heel, stopping before he could pull his pistol from his waistband. The object that greeted him was an old pre-war model of Mr. Handy. Deacon blinked a few times beneath his sunglasses, shocked by the odd scene of the robot trimming some desolate bushes outside the house he was looking for.

He cleared his throat before responding. “Good day to you as well... Is Artemis home?”

“Artemis?” The Mr. Handy asked, stopping his task to float closer to Deacon, who gripped the handle of his pistol tighter, unsure if this would work or if the robot would go haywire and try to hack him to pieces with his buzz-saw arm.

“Or Nate? The Wrights? This is their house, correct?”

The Mr. Handy was silent to him, his three eyes dialing before he shocked himself back into a response. “Yes of course you have the ‘Wright’ house!” The robot joked and Deacon almost smiled, were it not for his dismay. “You must be the electrician I’ve sent for. Or are you the plumber? However I’m afraid that they are out for the day. Would you like me to notify them when they come home of your arrival?”

Deacon’s jaw almost hit the pavement. This wasn’t happening, how could he be so lucky? “It shouldn’t take long, surely I’ll be in and out before they get home, right? No sense in rescheduling,” he played along and followed the robot into the home.

While staring an a nearly disintegrated electrical box in the home, Deacon was able to weasel out some more information out of the robot, to the point where he accepted some “tea” from him (it was a broken teacup filled with filthy water and ash). Deacon managed to learn what Nate had done and, more importantly, what Artemis had done, for a living. He found out how the couple met, when they became pregnant with their son, the date of their wedding anniversary that quickly followed.

Deacon must have had a conversation with the robot for three hours before it began getting dark and he felt he had everything he needed.

“Thank you again for the tea, Codsworth!” He waved at the robot.

“Don’t forget to let your superiors know of the situation here, we are in dire need of repairs. No reflection on your work of course!” The robot called back before Deacon left, debating on heading back to the vault or not. In a split second decision he decided to head for Cambridge, deciding to gather more information on what Artemis had been studying in "Law" school.

 

_Twelve years._ Twelve years he had stared at her face, read the same books she had, walked the same roads she had. He had visited every place he knew Artemis had visited, be it her college, the law firm she interned at, the hospital she gave birth in. He even found her and her husband’s names listed in a registry for the military in an emergency supply station. Twelve years had passed and now, he stood, heart racing and mouth dry, in front of her Cryopod. He had ran endless situations through his head, countless scenarios for talking to her, actually releasing her. Deacon, however failed to imaginable the situation he was in.

He had caught wind of the Institute’s piked interest in this vault from a dead drop and nearly ran the whole way here, expecting Artemis to be gone or, even worse, dead. _Twelve years_. Twelve years and he had no idea what to say to her. Twelve years and he had no idea how to act. Twelve years and he still wasn’t prepared to meet Artemis.

“Do _something_ , you asshole!” He screamed at himself, shaking as he stared at her. His hands ran over his shaved head, trying to wipe away the anxiety he felt. Twelve years. Deacon wasn’t going to let anybody take her away from him. He wasn’t going to lose something this precious to him again. It pained him, but the truth was that he had been preoccupied with “Project Wanderer”, as Desdemona spitefully named Deacon’s constant absence, longer than he had known his dead wife.

He exhaled and turned quickly, making his way to the terminal, as if he could walk away from the thought. His fingers shook terribly as he typed in the commands, finally bringing Artemis back to life. As soon as he heard her pod hiss and open he couldn’t handle himself anymore and disappeared, literally. He had chickened out and popped on a stealthboy, remaining invisible as he watched the woman choke and fall to her knees out of her pod. He stayed quiet as she screamed her husband’s name. He moved silently when she frantically ran to the terminal he had been using to try and free Nate. He stayed unseen while she pulled him out, fell over, and cried on the ground with his frozen head in her lap.  
Deacon stayed and watched, feeling his gut wretch and his heart sink as Artemis held Nate and cried for hours. And finally, Deacon followed a frightened Artemis out of the vault and to her new life.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis finds the Railroad and officially meets Deacon.

Deacon took a long drag from the cigarette he had lit and held the burning, scratching, smoke in his lungs. She was there, she was ten feet from him, watching that nuisance reporter and the definite Synth Mayor of Diamond City bicker. Her black bangs barely covered her delicate eyebrows. Her hazel blue eyes were covered in shadows behind a pair of old glasses as she watched on patiently, waiting for a time to butt in and ask about Nick Valentine. This was as close as Deacon had even been to her after she left the vault and he ran for the hills, literally. He was pissed off at himself for acting like he had. There were so many ways he could have handled the situation better, he could have just brought her back to HQ, instead of having to drop hints for her everywhere. He could have been there for her in the vault, instead of stalking her around the Commonwealth.

Deacon exhaled before he began to choke, feeling his head start to spin from the lack of oxygen. The cigarette was already working for him, however. Calming him down and stopping him from shaking underneath his Diamond City Guard disguise. He backed his way towards the staircase as the mayor left in a huff and Piper talked Artemis into doing an interview after she went to find Nick. Deacon already knew he wasn’t in, but had also double checked that the two citizens were waiting for her by his door like he payed them to be, hoping they could sound legit when arguing about the Railroad.

“Excuse me,” Piper said, pushing past him and bringing him back to reality. She might as well have shouted “Move!” at him by the way she walked past. He shook his head, looking back to Artemis who followed behind her.

“Hi,” she said, making her way past as well, and Deacon’s cool had completely vanished from the simple two letter word.

“Welcome to the, uh, Great Green Jewel. You’ll totally love it here,” he blurted out in a near panic and then mentally kicked himself in the ass. He would have slapped himself if Artemis wasn’t watching him, an eyebrow quirked.

Deacon had never lost his cool like that, never. Artemis wasn’t even trying to talk to him, she was just being polite.

“Thanks,” she half smiled despite his awkward greeting and she walked past him into the city.

 

“What?” Desdemona’s voice sounded thought the catacombs. “Somebody’s actually at the door? You mean they actually followed the freedom trail?” Deacon looked up from the desk he was at, pretending to work. He felt her eyes burning holes into his sunglasses and he simply shrugged.

“That’s what we’re thinking. Tom’s tracked them for a while, but we didn’t think she’d get past the mutants at Fenuil Hall,” Drummer Boy advised Des.

“Deacon, what do you know about this?” She asked him and he shrugged again, smiling cheekily. 

Des shook her head at him. “I want you out there with me, Glory, and Drummer Boy when she gets inside.”

“If she gets inside, boss. Let me finish this and I’ll head out there,” Deacon told her, managing to look calm while his insides were lighting fire and melting together.

“Look at him, this has to be Project Wanderer, right?” Glory asked Des and Drummer Boy. “All this hard work and now he doesn’t want the payoff.”

“Project Wanderer is a myth!” He shouted as the three headed out, staring at the random papers he had strewn on the desk, his hand beginning to shake as he held the pen he was using to doodle with.

After a few minutes of agonizing silence the overhead lights flickered, meaning that Artemis had actually made it inside. He let go of a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and stood up, wiping his sweaty palms off on the white shirt he had on.

“Okay, Deacon, okay,” he breathed to himself, making his way out to the entrance.

“Who told you how to contact us?” He heard Des interrogating Artemis as he rounded the corner, walking slowly into the conversation.

“I helped Karl out of a jam. He knows a guy, who knows a guy, and they hooked me up with a lead,” he heard Artemis answer, not faltering in her words or pacing. Deacon was impressed. He figured that she would be able to catch a lie, but not weave one as well. Especially not to Desdemona.

“We’ll look into that. I’m Desdemona, and I’m the leader of the Railroad. And you...” Des seemingly bought the lie and Deacon was even more impressed, almost forgetting his nerves. He purposefully kicked a rock once he was near enough and Des whipped around. “Deacon, where’ve you been?”

“You’re having a party. What gives with my invitation?” He smiled at her, noting that Glory rolled her eyes and Drummer Boy shook his head with a slight smile.

“I need intel. Who is this?” Des asked him, completely ignoring the fact that she had been the one who told him to come along.

“Well, she’s got to be someone. She made it down here, right? Normal people just don’t do that,” he tried to stress, failing to come up with anything noteworthy about Artemis besides being well over two centuries old and having a better education than anyone in the room, even if she was only a junior in college when the world went to hell. In reality, this whole “Follow the Freedom Trail” was designed by Deacon for her specifically.

“What’s the big deal?” Artemis asked him, cocking her head slightly. Only then did he realize that pesky reporter was with her, Piper. God. Damn. It.

“Either you figured how to slip by bad guys, ghouls, et al, so you’re smart,” Deacon continued, trying to forget about Piper for the time being. “Or you blasted a path straight through. In which case, tough. Either way, kind of impressive.” He still spoke directly to Artemis, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses that only showed Artemis her reflection, Deacon focusing only on her.

“What? Normal people can’t figure out your decoder ring out front?” Artemis sarcastically asked him, a smile forming and he wanted to burst out laughing, forgetting how nervous he was before. Instead he remained cool.

“These days, being able to spell ‘Railroad’ is cause for celebration.” Artemis and Piper glanced at one another and Piper shrugged with a small nod.

“So you got nothing? She’s a complete unknown?” Des asked him. He started to worry then maybe he was playing this all too well, he thought for sure she’d know this was “Project Wanderer”.

“What are our options?” He asked, looking from his boss to Glory and Drummer Boy, “Shoot them? We need friends, Des. Now more than ever. And I got a real good feeling about her.” Maybe he had laid it on a little too think now.

“What? Are you vouching for her?” Des asked, fully turning to him.

“Yes,” he didn’t hesitate. “Definitely.”

“Project Wanderer,” Glory mouthed to to him and Drummer Boy shook his head again, chuckling quietly in amusement. So this was it, Deacon’s “little” project was out.

“Fine,” Des sighed. “That changes things,” she looked back to Artemis and Piper. Deacon himself made his way down to their level, done with his part of the plan for now. “I don’t know what, if anything, you’ve heard out there about us. You know what a Synth is, right?”

“Yeah,” Artemis answered, placing a hand on her hip. “I know about them.”

“Good. The Institute treats Synths like property, like tools.”

“Do you know why?” Artemis asked Des, and Deacon couldn’t keep his eyes off her, it was so strange to see her alive and speaking in front of him. She was actually here in the flesh, all because of him.

“They’re playing God! Tinkering with things they don’t fully understand. From that lofty vantage its easy to deny their creation’s very humanity.”

“That... Sounds like slavery,” Artemis said with a realization.

“Exactly,” Desdemona’s face lit up (despite actually being lit up), “So we seek to free the Synths from their bondage. Give them a chance, at a real life... I have a question. The only question that matters. Would you risk your life for you fellow man? Even if that man was a Synth?”

“I risk my life for people every day, it makes no difference if they’re a man or a Synth,” Artemis responded and Deacon clenched his jaw to keep from beaming. This was perfect. Artemis was perfect.

“Well said. Deacon was right about us, we do need more ‘friends’, but...” Desdemona began and Deacon spun around to look at her. No no no, this was perfect what’s going wrong now? “Right now, we don’t have the time to train up a new agent. There are however, other valuable ways, you can contribute. See Deacon for details. You’re free to go.”

Artemis watched Desdemona walk away, leaving Glory and Drummer Boy behind, before making her way to Deacon. He was not expecting the twist Des threw at him, but was able to keep calm, finally, around Artemis.

“Hope you didn’t mind the reception,” he smiled at her, “When you tangle with the Institute, you’ve got to be careful when someone new gets on the dance floor.”

Artemis didn’t look too peeved, unlike her companion. “Your leader was just being cautions,” she smiled with understanding and Deacon felt a thousand times more relieved.  
“I’ll take hurt feelings over becoming the Institute’s play thing any day,” Piper agreed with a nod, Deacon still doing his best to try and ignore her.

“Exactly,” Deacon nodded in agreement. “Kind of killed our chance at a friendly first impression though. But it’s all good now. I vouched for you, nobody got shot... Still, I would consider it a close personal favor if you didn’t sell us out to the Institute. Thanks.” Deacon suddenly realized he couldn’t stop smiling at her.

“So... Tell me. Why did you vouch for me?” Artemis pried, Deacon was prepared for this but honestly hadn’t expected it.

“In our little outfit, it’s my job to know things. And with everything you’ve done, it’s clear you’re capable. A dangerous enemy. And, I’m betting, a valuable ally,” he danced around the words, barely saying anything.

“But why the trust? You can’t be taking it all on faith?” She continued, but Deacon’s demeanor didn’t falter.

“I don’t know if we can trust you, but I hope we can. We just survived a hell of a crisis. So we may be just a teeny weeny bit desperate for new members. If everything was sunshine and bottle caps, we’d probably play a longer ‘get to know you’ game. But we don’t have that luxury.” Everything he said was the truth, just not the answer to her question.

Artemis realized this. “Really? Is that all?” Her head cocked slightly and her hand went back to her hip.

“You just don’t give up,” he smirked at her, “Alright, I have a short list of people I think would be a good fit for our family. You piqued my interest, so maybe I asked around,” Deacon explained. That’s as far as he could go. “I stalked you for twelve years while you were frozen” definitely wouldn’t play into his hand. “I did my homework. If you hadn’t found us, there’s a chance I would have found you instead. Thanks for saving me a trip.” He made a quick transition before Artemis could question him further. “So Des wants me to make you a Tourist... That’s what we call someone who helps out with the odd job here and there. What a waste. I’m just gonna come out and say this: The Railroad needs you,” he stressed to her.

“You sure you need me?” Artemis crossed her arms. “Desdemona didn’t seem to care.”

About now, strangling Des sounded delightfully pleasant. “She’s just thinking of the time and manpower it would take to train you. And if you were some hick from the burbs that didn’t know your ass from a rocket launcher, she’d be right.” Artemis actually laughed at that stupid joke, causing warmth to bloom in his chest and spread to his limbs. He could tell the sound was addictive and he had only heard it once. 

“I’m just willing to bet you need a few pointers and a target,” Deacon’s mouth plowed on despite his body’s reaction to her. “Look, I’ll tell you the game plan, then you decide. I’ve got a job, too big for me, just perfect for the two of us,” he stressed the number while glancing from Artemis to Piper and back. “You help me out, we turn a few heads, then Des invites you into the fold.”

“So what’s the job?” Artemis asked, he figured she would.

“Upfront, the only thing I’ll say is it’s going to be a wild and dangerous ride. But probably nothing new for someone like you.”

Artemis was silent for a moment before glancing to Piper. “Don’t ask me,” she told Artemis, before looking to Deacon and saying, “No comment,” in a slightly dumb voice. Deacon shrugged, ignoring Piper’s mocking statement.

“Sign me up then,” Artemis agreed and Deacon felt relief wash over him.

“Perfecto. Lets meet up at the old freeway outside Lexington. Two days, I’ll fill you in then.” Artemis didn’t verbally respond, but glanced up to Glory, still aiming her minigun, before backing out of the room with Piper.

“Still have to shove that in their faces after Des made her a tourist, huh?” Deacon asked her as he made his way back into HQ. The smile he had was finally gone completely from his lips.

“So how long did it take you to get her through the front door again? Twelve years?” Glory asked him right back.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis catches Deacon in a lie.

“Wanderer.”

She was staring at him again. She almost always stared at him, during downtime, stealing glances during missions, even talking face to face. He thought the first few times she was trying to size him up, but eventually it began to make him... Uncomfortable? No, that’s the wrong word...

“Deacon,” she responded, catching herself and her hazel blue eyes jolted down to her bowl, her cheek resting on her fist. The folded piece of paper sat next to her bowl, untouched. She had been too afraid to open it.

“Don’t use the code unless you absolutely have to,” Deacon had told her hours earlier, “It’ll wipe my memories. I’m not sure how much of me will even be left.” Artemis had this nagging feeling that Deacon was playing her for some gullible little girl. She also had this pit of fear growing in her stomach, if this was the one time he wasn’t messing with her she could screw up everything.

“So... Are you gonna eat that?” Deacon asked her, for a moment she thought he was going to ask if she had read his “code” or not.

“No,” Artemis decided, pushing away her nearly untouched noodle bowl.

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?” The Protectron dubbed Takahashi waddled over to her, mistaking her gesture as wanting a second helping.

She ignored the Protectron, standing from her seat and pushed the damned piece of paper over to Deacon. “I decided I don’t need this,” she told him. The solution was simple, real or not she no longer had to worry and already felt relief. She wasn’t risking loosing her best friend anymore, even if her best friend was an extremely attractive, lying, asshole.

“Wanderer,” Deacon sighed as she walked away towards Piper’s house, where they were crashing. She was halfway to the front door before Deacon caught up to her. “Did you even read it?” he asked her, moving into her path so she wouldn’t continue into Piper’s home.

“I don’t need to, Deacon,” she placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head at him. Her shinny black hair shifted as she did, glinting in the lights above Diamond City while their glare caught in her glasses. “You’re lying to me. I’m not that gullible.”

“Alright,” he threw his hands up in surrender, “You got me. Don’t take it personally, I lie to everyone.”

“And here I thought I was special,” Artemis said flatly, hiding her immense relief in the fact that Deacon couldn’t be deleted with some random phrase.

“Look, if you’ll believe anything I tell you, believe this; I’m in your corner. Always have been.” Deacon tried to sound honest and sincere, however Artemis only bought it as another one of his lies.

“Right now,” her hands fell off of her hips, “you’re just in my way,” she pushed past him and continued on to the door of Piper’s home.

“But it’s early,” he whined. He was exhausted though, they hadn’t had a full, restful night of sleep in almost five days while on their last run, planting a few MILAs for Tom and securing some DIA caches for Pam. After twelve years of mostly sitting on his ass deciphering Law textbooks and reading fiction like Proust, Shakespeare, and the monster that was War and Peace (only because Artemis had done a book report on less than a quarter of it her freshman year of college), Deacon wasn’t used to the amount of trouble he and Artemis found themselves in. She was just over half his age, plus two-hundred-ten years, and she was exhausting.

“You don’t wanna... Run the bases?” Deacon asked, his mind failing to find anything entertaining to do in Diamond City besides watching drunks in the Duggout Inn.  
Artemis’ hand was on Piper’s door handle when she looked back to him with an eyebrow raised and her breath caught in her throat, until she realized he was speaking in a literal sense. “Run the bases?” she asked, her eyes peeking out from between the rim of her glasses and her thick bangs.

“All the kids are doing it,” Deacon shrugged, unfamiliar with the colloquialism.

Artemis wasn’t sure if he was playing dumb or if the “bases” have actually faded from everyone’s vocabulary in two-hundred years. It was impossible to tell when Deacon was lying or hiding something, however she had a sinking feeling in her gut that he genuinely didn’t know and wasn’t intentionally hitting on her.

“That’s a horrible idea, Deacon,” she said and turned around, walking through the door.

“I know,” Deacon muttered to himself. He just wanted any excuse to not be berated with questions from Piper.

With a sigh, he walked forward into Piper’s home. “No comment,” he said immediately as he saw Piper and Artemis chatting in the entrance.

“I wasn’t saying anything to you, ass,” Piper quickly retorted, raising her voice. Deacon stifled a chuckle, only to hear Artemis’ own laughter. “Why do you even bring him here?”

“I don’t,” Artemis said with a smile, watching Deacon plop down onto one of Piper’s couches. “He just follows me around like a lost dog.”

“Aww man,” Deacon screwed his face up as if he were displeased. “At least name me a lost... Yow gee... Yow genie... Yo guy.”

“YAO GUAI?” Piper over enunciated the words, looking completely shocked. Artemis continued to laugh, the main goal of the conversation. “Why do you travel with _him_?” Piper asked, turning back to Artemis.

“Because he’s choice entertainment,” Artemis smiled, watching Piper roll her hazel eyes.

“C’mon. Let me show you what I’ve been working on.” She turned heel and started for the stairs, her red coat she always had on twirling around her body. Artemis threw a glance at Deacon, half expecting some witty comeback, however she only received a flash if his pearly white, shit-eating grin and her own reflection slightly obscure and warped in his shades.

 

“So is this what pre-war cooking was like?” Piper asked standing next to Artemis, watching her scramble up Radscorpion eggs for breakfast.

“Hardly, for one we used stoves not hotplates. And scorpions were smaller than your hands. Most of them,” Artemis answered, feeling the itch to add something, _anything _, to the frying pan so that the insect eggs wouldn’t be so... Insect egg-like.__

__“Piper, your curiosity is showing,” Deacon chided from the couch, lounging next to Nat who was proofreading some of Piper’s work._ _

__Piper looked worried for a second before realizing he had said “curiosity” instead of something actually embarrassing. “It’s not like you have anything interesting to say,” Piper turned her back to him and intensely focused on Artemis, who was dicing up a tato to add into the eggs._ _

__“It’s called investigative journalism,” Nat told Deacon without lifting her eyes from the paper she had her nose in._ _

__“More like nosey journalism,” Deacon mumbled, noticing the smile cracking on Artemis’ face. He wouldn’t have to try too hard to get her to laugh._ _

__“More like boring journalism,” Nat said next to him and Deacon realized he wasn’t far off from laughing either, chuckling lowly. It wasn’t a true statement, however. Since Piper’s first article featuring Artemis and her heart-breaking tale of becoming a human popsicle and losing her family, Diamond City loved her. Anything Pre-war, even cooking eggs, was fascinating. Deacon had gone through that phase for a while. When he was doing his research on Artemis’ life he had become engrossed for months in how her regular daily life would have looked like. The pre-war phase he went through had a steep incline almost a year in actually, as he was reading through a federal law textbooks that Artemis would have studied the year the bombs fell. Abruptly, Deacon had realized that the words he was reading made no Goddamn sense, and that realization led him to another: he could hardly retain anything from the text books he had read. The fiction however, that was a different story._ _

__“Hey beautiful,” he would stroll into the vault sometimes, thinking that just being around her could help him understand the law text better. “You’re crazy for trying to get this stuff. I mean, how the hell is this supposed to tell you if someone deserves to go to jail? Just use common sense...” he would pace around, holding those heavy books for hours, re-reading the same pages over and over._ _

__“Hey beautiful, what does it mean when--”_ _

__The memory was interrupted by Artemis holding a plate of Radscorpion eggs and fried tatos under his nose. “Thanks, beautiful,” he said quickly and nearly dropped the plate when he realized what he said. The lazy smile on his face didn’t falter but his heart stopped._ _

__Artemis didn’t respond verbally, instead an adorable blush crept across her cheeks and she turned around quickly to get herself a plate._ _

__“Nat, food,” Piper said, two plates in either hand. She plopped one down in front of Nat’s feet on the coffee table and the other remained her focus as she sat next to her younger sister. Nat quickly set down the paper she was engrossed in and started eating the food as quick as Piper._ _

__“So Deacon,” Piper started, already half done with her breakfast as Artemis returned with her own plate and two dinner forks._ _

__“No comment,” he said quickly, not bothering to face her. He took one of the forks from Artemis as she squeezed herself onto the couch next to him._ _

__“So is the Railroad concerned at all about the Institute--”_ _

__“No Comment,” Deacon said again and quickly filled his mouth with food. Unsurprisingly it was _good_. Artemis insisted she wasn’t a good cook but whenever she made _real_ food, it was amazing. Compared at least to stale over processed junk-food._ _

__“--Using Synths to infiltrate the Commonwealth’s food supply?” Piper persisted._ _

__“No comment,” Deacon managed through a mouthful of food. He had avoided all of Piper’s questions up until now, half an hour before he was free from her house._ _

__“They could possibly be poisoning hundreds,” Piper persisted._ _

__“Are we talking about this while we’re eating breakfast?” Artemis came to his aid._ _

__“I don’t know, are we?” Piper asked back but she was looking at Deacon. With his mouth full, Deacon shook his head “no”. He managed to dissuade Piper until it was finally time to pick up and leave._ _

__“Thanks again, Piper,” Artemis hugged her friend as they stood outside the home._ _

__“It’s no problem, just... Try to ditch baldy next time,” Piper grimaced in Deacon’s direction and he would have laughed if he didn’t feel folded up paper being shoved into his relaxed hand._ _

__He looked down to see Nat standing next to him, looking nonchalant. Deacon imitated her, even going so far as to whistle inconspicuously as he shoved the paper into his jeans pocket. Nat and Piper left then, heading for the school house._ _

__“That kid doesn’t need school, she’s too smart already,” Artemis mused, turning to Deacon. “What did she give you?”_ _

__“You saw that huh?” Deacon asked. “Thought it was pretty sneaky.”_ _

__“Either that or you gave her something,” Artemis leaned against one of the posts holding the awning up in front of Piper’s home. Deacon reached back onto his pocket and felt another piece of paper there, pulling it out and giving it to Artemis instead. He only hoped she wouldn’t get mad at him._ _

__“You can’t trust...” Artemis read aloud as she unfolded the paper. Her hazel blue eyes shooting up to him over the rim of her glasses. Deacon felt his stomach twist at the sight of her stony face, watching as she balled the piece of paper up and tossed it into the street before walking away from him, towards Diamond City’s exit._ _

__“Wanderer,” Deacon sighed, watching her leave before his feet picked up and automatically followed her. “Wait,” he called after her, catching up to her as she reached the top of the stadium stairs, leading to the box office. “Artemis, hold up.” He never used her name, and she took notice, finally stopping to turn around, both of her hands on her hips. The look she was giving him made Deacon think that she would have been a damn good mom, despite how young she was._ _

__“Why should I trust you then?” She asked him._ _

__Deacon swallowed, feeling his mouth dry out. _Maybe you shouldn’t. I’m just some asshole who’s stalked you for twelve years_. “Did I have you going?” He asked instead, and Artemis rolled her eyes, but didn’t walk away from him. “Don’t take it personal, I lie to everyone.” Deacon took a chance and took a few steps closer to the angry woman before him. “Maybe I’m just a human that has people back home he wants to protect. Then again,” his voice changed into a terrible impression of a robot, hoping to get that magical sound out of Artemis, “maybe not.”_ _

__She didn’t laugh, but a smile had almost broke the straight line her lips were pressed into. “You scared the shit out of me, Deeks,” she told him honestly, and it was genuinely confusing to him._ _

__“My relationship with the truth rubs some people the wrong way. But believe this one thing: I’m in your corner,” he continued anyways. It was the whole point to this “recall code” anyways. “I always have been. Not everyone can say that. That “code” I gave you is a hard truth. You can’t trust everyone. Even if someone sounds sincere, they could be a Synth replacement, working for the Institute.”_ _

__He was next to her now, speaking quieter. “The bitch of the problem is recognizing the ninety percent of the time someone’s on the up and up and the ten percent of the time you’re being played.”_ _

__“Fine. But you could have just told me all that,” Artemis shrugged, one of her hands falling from her waist as her head tilted slightly._ _

__“Wouldn’t have gotten the point across as well,” Deacon smiled at her and she returned it, her smile beaming and Deacon felt better about the whole thing._ _

__“So what did Nat give you?” Artemis asked him, all of her anger now completely gone._ _

__“Dunno,” Deacon pulled the paper out of his pocket and unfolded it to find a fairly well drawn cartoon of an angry Yao Guai and a bald man running away screaming “Yow Gee!!”_ _

__Laughter erupted from his chest as he handed the paper to Artemis and her laughter entwined with his. “Oh damn that’s great!” She quickly composed herself. “This is getting framed and put up in HQ.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I already said this but Artemis is way younger than the Sole Survivor typically is, at 23 years old (plus 210 as Deacon put it).


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis' feelings for Deacon are becoming too much to bear, Artemis makes new friends.

He hadn’t said a word to her since they arrived at the church. Once all was clear, it was an agonizing four hours until Old Man Stockton would show up with the “package”. Artemis had been staring at him for about two, Deacon’s back to her as he chain-smoked cigarettes while leaning against one of the windows and watching the Commonwealth. She studied him in the road leathers he was wearing, a black Pompadour wig atop his head. There was something about the way he stood, with his arms resting against the windowsill and how one of his knees bent slightly, the toe of his boot digging into the dirty floor below him. Something about it was just... Irresistible.

A loud groan left Artemis and she snapped her eyes shut, rubbing her face with her slightly dirty hands, leaving her glasses askew. What was wrong with her, why was she so into her partner? She knew next to nothing about him, he made sure of that and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him and she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.

She fixed her glasses and stared up at the ceiling as she laid down on her pew. However, she could barely fight the urge to look at Deacon again, knowing that she had gained his attention with her frustrated sigh. Artemis had never wanted anyone so badly just to be... Utterly and completely ignored.

She got off the pew then, keeping her eyes straight ahead and walked to the back of the church and up the stairs, trying to escape Deacon and the growing fire in her gut. Artemis had already looked through all the junk when her and Deacon first arrived, but it was something to keep herself occupied. Not even half an hour in, she was already bored and her mind was on nothing but Deacon.

“What is wrong with me?” She sighed to herself, while pacing around the upper floor of the church. She couldn’t escape him and his cigarettes, a smell that use to be unsavory and even repulsive to her was now filling the church and she didn’t mind, she liked it even.

Eventually, Artemis found herself as far as possible from Deacon and his cigarette smoke, high up in the church steeple. The sun had set by this time and Artemis was leaning against the peeling black painted wood, one of her legs out in front of her and the other dangling over the ledge. She had managed to calm herself down and felt like her head was slowly clearing when the smell of cigarettes suddenly hit her nose.

She started to sigh before being startled by a voice. “Looks like you found a sniper’s paradise.”

“Yeah, MacCready would love this place,” Artemis loosened her tight grip on the wood around her as she kept her balance.

“I was thinking you and me,” Deacon replied, hoisting himself onto the wooden wall that surrounded the steeple. “Could’ve sniped all those raider bastards from up here, no problem.”

“Mac is a better sniper than you,” Artemis teased him. She was just happy Deacon was talking to her. Maybe the boredom had gotten to him as well?

“That kid has nothing on me, Wanderer. I can out shoot him any day,” Deacon responded but Artemis noticed something. Underneath his joking, laid back demeanor he looked... Irked?

“I don’t know Deeks, I’ve seen him do some pretty amazing things with his rifle and a few fifty cals.” What this what it took? Did she have to make him jealous just to keep his attention?

“Amazing?” Deacon laughed at her. “Sound’s like someone’s crushing.”

 _On you, yeah._ “Maybe,” Artemis bit her lip, folding her arms over her chest.

Deacon rose his eyebrows behind his sunglasses, looking shocked. “Maybe?”

“He’s hot okay?” Artemis falsely admitted. Sure MacCready was cute but the dude killed people for no reason other than he was paid to do it. Artemis looked away from Deacon, feigning embarrassment, but she wanted to watch his face, she wanted to see his reaction to the random admission.

“He... MacCready.. You think--?” Deacon didn’t finish. She was almost afraid he saw through the lie, recognized what she was doing. Instead he continued with “Stockton’s here.” Artemis looked over to where Deacon had pointed and saw Old Man Stockton and another man, presumably the “package”, nearing the church. “C’mon.”

She followed Deacon back down through the church, meeting Stockton and the Synth near the entrance. “Everything looks clear,” he greeted Artemis and Deacon. “This is H2-22. H2, these are the agents I was telling you about.”

“Hey there buddy,” Deacon smiled, but Artemis’ eyebrows were pushed together with a slight frown.

“Hi,” she greeted him, wondering why he didn’t have an actual name yet, and why he looked so timid.

“I’ll fire up the signal,” Stockton said as he walked over to a lantern sat on some books in a window. The Synth refugee didn’t greet Artemis and Deacon back, and even in the dark she could see him shaking with fear. “It’s time for me to go. Keep H2 safe. Someone will be here shortly,” Stockton instructed and Deacon sighed.

“Yay, more waiting,” he looked to Artemis as Stockton quickly left.

“Hey, are you alright?” Artemis asked the Synth.

“It’s probably safer if I don’t say anything. I don’t want to put you two in any more danger,” He responded quietly and Artemis looked to Deacon again.

“You’re safe with us bud, don’t worry,” Deacon reassured H2 with a carefree smile. “Wanderer here is a great shot.”

“All Deacon’s good for is talking,” Artemis shrugged, smiling at H2 as well.

“Thank you,” The Synth said politely. “You have no idea how nice it is just to talk to someone...”

“Hey,” a fourth voice caught Artemis by surprise and her and Deacon both spun around to face the entrance with their weapon’s drawn. “Don’t shoot!”

“High Rise, shit man,” Deacon said with relief, slinging his rifle over his shoulder to greet the newcomer with a casual handshake.

“Deacon, still got that same face, huh?” High Rise greeted him back. “Is this Wanderer?”

“Yeah,” Artemis responded, lowering her pistol.

“Well well. I heard about you, walked the Freedom Trail, cleared the Switchboard. Glad you joined the team, you’re quite the catch.”

Artemis smiled at him, this was perfect. Even if Deacon caught her bluff with MacCready, he couldn’t deny this. “You look like quite the catch yourself,” she admitted with her pistol in one hand by her side, her other on her hip and her head slightly cocked, sizing up the newcomer. She didn’t fail to notice how Deacon’s face fell straight to the filthy floorboards of the church. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” High Rise responded and shook her outstretched hand, holding it slightly longer than he had Deacon’s. “Let’s have a look at our friend here,” his attention was drawn to the Synth.

“He’s hot,” Artemis mouthed behind High Rise’s back to Deacon and watched him fail to smile, the corners of his mouth only twitching. She wished she could see his eyes behind those sunglasses.

“Hey you. You okay?” High Rise asked H2, talking a few steps towards him.

“A little rattled. The other man... He said I shouldn’t talk too much.”

“He told you right H2. You’ll need a real name, and a new face, but we’ll get to that.” He turned back to Artemis and Deacon. “There’s some raiders behind me. Afraid we need a little more help.

“Sounds like fun,” Artemis glanced at Deacon.

“Damn, you HQ heavies mean business,” High Rise smiled at her again, looking from her pistol to her smile. “We need to get to Ticonderoga Safe House. My home.”

“Let's get going then, ready H2?” Artemis asked and the Synth nodded. “Deeks?”

“Lady’s first,” Deacon had managed to wipe most of the shock from his face, his rifle back in his hands.

 

“So... There a reason HQ is calling her ‘Wanderer’?” High Rise asked Deacon as Artemis and H2 headed up stairs for the beds.

Deacon turned to look at High Rise, his eyes narrowed but hidden behind his sunglasses. “Not for the reason you think,” he answered with a low voice.

“She was laying it on kinda thick, did you piss her off or...?” High Rise asked rubbing the back of his head as he backed up and collapsed onto a nearby couch.

“She ain’t mine,” Deacon clarified further and took a seat next to him with a sigh.

“Why not?” High Rise sounded shocked. “Have you taken a look at her without those grimy shades?”

“You know the rules man,” Deacon shook his head.

“There’s nothing the alpha says that tells us agents we can’t mingle a little.”

“It’s not a good idea. We’re partners.” _Also I’m twice her age, she doesn’t know anything about me, I’d never forgive myself if I caused her any harm, she’s looking for a son she thinks is an infant but I know is at least twelve if not_ dead _, by the way I stalked her for twelve years while she was frozen in Vault 111._

Deacon rubbed his forehead, feeling all the reasons he and Artemis shouldn’t be together get pushed aside by sheer, and absolutely dangerous, desire.

“Okay man. I’ll lay off her for you though. She’s way into you,” High Rise patted him on the back.

“Shut up,” Deacon said flatly.

“Have you seen the way she looks at you?” High Rise asked with a laugh. “She either idolizes you or wants in your pants. Maybe both.”

Deacon had noticed, he wasn’t dumb. Half of him was thrilled and the other half was scared. He hadn’t wanted to run from something so badly in years. The only reason he stuck around was because he couldn’t imagine a day without Artemis now that he had her out and about with him. It was hard enough to stay away from her when she was frozen.

“Thanks,” Deacon finally answered, not knowing what else to do or say. First Artemis was about ready to spill her heart about being in love with a merc, and now she was suddenly all over an agent he (almost) wouldn’t hesitate to call his friend. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all just a show for him, but then there was the very real worry that this wasn’t just one of Artemis’ ruses.

“Good luck with her,” High Rise clapped Deacon on his leather clad shoulder. “Get some rest, we had a long night.”

Deacon only nodded at him, watching High Rise slowly make his way up the steps from the lobby they were in. Deacon himself sunk further into the couch with a sigh. He didn’t feel like he would get much sleep that night.

Still, the next morning Deacon woke up with a start as he heard a sharp “ding!” as the elevator was powered up.

“There’s beds upstairs, you know,” he heard Boxer’s voice call down to him and Deacon rubbed his eyes beneath his sunglasses.

“Yeah, I know,” he yawned, noticing a sharp ache in his neck. He rubbed at it with his hand as he stood up.

“Breakfast,” Boxer nodded, indicating Deacon to follow her. “That new heavy that’s with you, Wanderer? She’s great. You should have stopped by sooner,” Boxer continued, walking at Deacon’s groggy pace.

“Yeah, you know I love me some long, lazy, dull days. Not Wanderer though,” Deacon admitted.

“That why they call her Wanderer?” Boxer asked him.

“Should be. Every day she makes me walk at least five miles,” Deacon rubbed at his neck again as he caught sight of Artemis seated at the bar in the kitchen next to H2-22, with High Rise frying something up on the stove.

“That’s a complete lie, don’t listen to him,” Artemis sounded over the Diamond City Radio playing from her Pipboy. “He’s never heard music before, like ever,” Artemis continued, meaning the Synth.

“Really now?” Deacon asked, acting surprised, but he had seen it before. This was Artemis’ first Synth escapee, for Deacon it was closer to his tenth. Even more for Boxer and High Rise.

H2-22 shook his head “no” as the next song kicked in.

“You’ve got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative,” High Rise sang in tune with the music. Deacon watched Artemis join in slightly off key and started dancing in her seat. It was a humorous sight, a show for H2, but Deacon was the one who was enthralled.

“You’ve got to spread joy up to the maxim-!” Artemis continued on, noticing how much H2 was enjoying it. She was cut off, however, gasping the last syllable of the lyric as High Rise set a mug down in front of her and poured her a hot cup of coffee.

“Is this real?” Artemis picked the mug up and smelled the coffee inside.

“‘Course it’s real, only the best from ol’ Slocum’s for my guests,” High Rise answered, winking at her as he poured his sister a cup who took a seat next to Artemis. In an instant Deacon went from stable to fuming, almost feeling as if something had physically snapped inside of him.

“H2, want to try some coffee?” High Rise continued.

“N-no thank you,” the Synth answered politely.

“Deacon?”

“Thought you were gonna _lay off_ the caffeine, High Rise,” Deacon answered, trying to conceal his sudden flare of emotion.

He looked over at Deacon as he poured a cup and his face dropped. “Oh yeah. Special occasion though,” High Rise shrugged, walking to Deacon to give him his mug. 

“Lay off caffeine? What the hell?” Boxer asked, gingerly sipping the hot coffee she had as she rose an eyebrow at her brother.

“Mild insomnia, keeps me up later than I’d like,” High Rise lied quickly and Deacon pushed off the door frame he was leaning on to follow High Rise and lean on the kitchen counter instead, so he’d be directly in front of Artemis.

“Because you drink it at six in the evening,” Boxer mumbled back.

“Institute keeps us on our toes,” High Rise defended himself.

“Oh, I know what you mean though,” Artemis said, half of her coffee already gone. Deacon shaking his head caught her attention and she stopped and switched gears. Deacon glanced at Boxer, who had an old magazine in front of her, and at High Rise, who was busy frying up some mirelurk steaks. He trusted these folks with everything but personal information, especially Artemis’ personal information. He already knew the Institute had a piked interest in her, so the less anyone knew about her the better.

“H2, you should really try some coffee,” she handed her mug to him. “You’ll regret it forever if you don’t,” she pressed and the Synth took the mug.

“Cheers buddy,” Deacon rose his own mug in a small toast. “It’s hot,” he added, unsure if H2 had ever had anything warm to eat or drink before.

H2 was cautious as he took a sip from Artemis’ mug, and Deacon wanted to laugh at the face he made. “It’s horrible,” he handed Artemis back the mug with a cough.

“Well...” Artemis too the mug back and finished the coffee off herself. “It’s black, no sugar or milk,” she defended the drink.

“Ew,” Boxer cut in. “Coffee doesn’t need anything to be great, huh Deacon?”

“Never had it any other way,” Deacon agreed, smiling at Artemis. She returned it, positively beaming at him and for that moment, everything was alright for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to the people reading this. I'm really happy that there's still Deacon lovers like me out there :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis finally gets what she wants from Deacon, Deacon immediately breaks Artemis' heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, super nervous about posting this chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy!

“I’m sorry we didn’t get back in time, Wanderer,” Deacon told her sincerely as they stood in the entrance to the Memory Den. He wanted to reach out to her, hold her, or hell even pat her on the back but he couldn’t. His arms stayed limp and useless by his sides as he just stared at her.

“Yeah, well,” Artemis sniffed. Deacon saw that she was doing her damn hardest to not cry after realizing her new Synth buddy had no recollection of her. She ejected the small orange holotape from her Pipboy and shoved it into her pant’s pocket.

“Let's get something to drink,” Artemis turned around and led the way out of the Memory Den and over to the Third Rail. Deacon followed her silently through the streets of Goodneighbor, nodded at the ghoul bouncer, Ham, on his way down to the Third Rail and then took stride next to Artemis instead of following her.

“Let me talk, okay?” He told her.

Artemis’ head tilted towards him, one of her eyebrows raised into her bangs. “You never talk.”

“Trust me,” Deacon flashed a smile at her. He would have winked but she wouldn’t have seen beneath his sunglasses. “Hey, Charlie,” he called then, walking up to the bar. Artemis watched on, taking a seat at one of the stools and leaning her elbows on the counter top. “I’d like my usual, from off the menu. Way off.” Deacon stood casually next to her, his hands in his jean pockets.

“Listen mate, I don’t know you,” The Mr. Handy responded with his thick accent, one of his eyes dilating as it focused on Deacon’s fave, the second was observing Artemis and the third was watching the glass he was cleaning. “And the menu's been set for years.”

“C’mon Charlie,” Artemis glanced up to Deacon who didn’t seem fazed by the robot's attitude. Artemis, however, wondered if she should cut him off and just order two Gwinnets. “I’ve been ordering off the menu since that business with... Tightrope.” Deacon continued, the code name not familiar with Artemis. She was honestly shocked at what the robot said next.

“Mister Deacon. Changed your face again. I can accommodate your usual, if the payment is right.” All three of the Mr. Handy’s eyes were focused on Deacon now as he set his rag and glass down. He pulled a pencil off the counter behind him as well as a piece of paper and set it in front of Deacon.

“You’ll find this sufficient, pleasure doing business,” He scribbled something down before handing both items back to the bar tender.

“As always,” Charlie stowed the piece of paper under the bar counter and replaced the pen before pulling out a bottle of whiskey. “Would Mayor Hancock’s favorite lady like a chaser?” The robot asked and Artemis smiled, slightly dazzled by Deacon’s trick, or whatever it was.

“I wouldn’t complain if you had some Nuka Cherry,” she said, Deacon moving to her other side and taking a seat next to her. Charlie pulled one of the soda bottles out for Artemis, and then set two glasses before the pair of spies and left them to their own.

“You’ll have to show me that trick sometime,” Artemis whispered to Deacon before pouring him a small amount of whiskey into a glass.

Deacon picked his glass up, silently toasted Artemis, and then tipped the liquid quickly back into his mouth. “Maybe some other time,” Deacon told her with a slight hiss to his voice from the burning alcohol.

Artemis poured him another glass before mixing the whiskey with Nuka Cola in hers.

 

She had stopped wearing a bra. Deacon had noticed after a few hours and a whole bottle of whiskey shared between the pair. Artemis was leaned over the bar, her current getup was a Gunner outfit, shredded jeans and a green button up shirt, which just so happened to be missing the third button. The way she was leaning forward brought the shirt tighter around her chest and the missing button caused a separation to form in the material, showing off the underside of her left breast and ribs to Deacon.

Deacon had the sneaking suspicion, as he did his best to keep his forehead in his hand in order to block the sight next to him, that she had to have ripped the button off herself, since it was there yesterday. She had stopped wearing her bra before that, however, at least a week prior. Deacon had definitely noticed the difference in shape and how she moved beneath her shirts when she laughed.

A soft poke to his own ribs made him jolt up and Artemis smiled at him. “You okay, Deeks?” She asked, no longer leaning against the bar so the gap in her shirt was closed.  
“Who me?” He asked. “Yeah. Smell in this place is rancid though. Like two mirelurks in their love nest.”

“I don’t think mirelurks have sex,” Artemis mused, taking a sip out of her third Nuka Cherry while leaning against the bar again. Deacon almost didn’t catch himself staring. Artemis looked like some post apocalypse, skinny, pinup girl ad for the drink.

“Well... That sucks,” Deacon said, wondering why the hell he thought bringing up sex was a good idea.

Artemis laughed at him, “That sucks? Because Mirelurks don’t get laid?”

 _Don’t say it, don’t you fucking say it._ “Not getting laid sucks,” he told her, looking as casual as possible but he had never wanted to punch himself in the jaw so hard. He knew for a fact she hadn’t had any sex since getting out of the vault. He would have seen it before she came to the Railroad and now every moment they had was spent around each other. Unless she had mastered the art of the two-minute quickie with MacCready or--

“Deacon,” Artemis snapped her fingers to get his attention and he realized he had lost himself to the thought of Artemis having sex with other men while repeating “You don’t care” in his head like it was his new motto.

“Huh?” He managed, watching the smile fade from her face.

“Are you okay?” She asked him again, actually looking concerned.

“I’m fine. I’m great,” he told her as he got out of his seat and made to leave the Third Rail, “I’m heading to bed.” Deacon didn’t wait for a reaction from her, he practically ran out of the place. They already had their room at the Rexford, but Deacon wasn’t sure why he thought it would be his refuge when he saw they only had one bed. _Again_. Ten caps a person and Clair still wouldn’t give them two beds or in the least two rooms. Maybe she thought that they were--

“Stop it, Jesus Christ,” Deacon said to himself, pacing wildly around the room, feeling his heart trying to escape his chest. He was afraid, he wouldn’t deny that. What would happen if he had sex with Artemis and she died? What would happen if he didn’t have sex with her and she died? What if she got bored with him after a while? What if she gave up on him and started actually pursuing some other jackass?

Deacon wasn’t sure what would hurt worse, Artemis leaving or dying, but he figured he wouldn’t survive either. Hell he could barely handle what happened to Barb-

“Fuck,” he choked, pressing his forefinger and thumb hard into his eyes from under his sunglasses. Why was he doing this to himself? Why was his mind intent on torturing him?  
Deacon’s usual solution would be to leave. He could get the hell out of Goodneighbor, get a face change and lay low for a while... But he knew that he couldn’t erase twelve years. He couldn’t get over the five he had off and on with his dead wife. Artemis being alive would just throw another layer on top of the obsession he had. No matter what he did, face change, disappear, lay low in the Mojave for a while, he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.

Deacon was on the bed now, sitting with his arms limp at his side as he stared blindly across the dark room, his cheeks sticky from drying tears. He was slowly realizing he didn’t know who he was anymore. The man he used to be would have screwed her and been done with it, let her move on to different things. Deacon wouldn’t have gotten involved. After the Switchboard, he would have left her to her own devices, spying on her here and there. This man, however, he had no idea who he was or what he was doing.

He heard someone shuffling down the hallway and his raw eyes, hidden by his sunglasses, looked to the door. He could barely see anything in the dark under his shades, but he was able to make out someone walking down the hallway through the holes in the wall. Deacon kicked off his shoes and laid down on the edge of the bed, flat on his back, sighing before he heard the door creak open.

“Deeks?” Artemis asked the darkness and a green light flooded the room from her wrist. He didn’t dare answer her, instead he lay still on the bed, closing his eyes. “Deacon?” Artemis asked again and closed the door.

He heard her walk across the floorboards over to the bed. He heard her sigh before something heavy was set on the dresser near the bed. He heard a zipper then and Deacon felt his mouth dry up, figuring it was her jeans. He heard her boots get kicked off and fabric falling to the floor. He heard Artemis rummaging through their packs and then he heard her shaking out a blanket. He heard the lamp on her Pipboy turn off before he felt the heavy blanket fall over him and the mattress. _And then he felt her crawl on top of him_.

The knuckles of his right hand, that lay limp by his side, met the bare skin of Artemis’ knee and his heart stopped. “Deacon?” Artemis breathed, still on top of him. Deacon remained silent, fighting his fingers to not twitch and feel more of her skin.

He managed not to respond to her, other than continuing his slow, steady breathing. He felt her weight shift forward and warm lips were pressed to his cheek. “I wish you’d talk to me,” she confessed quietly and Deacon was frozen, wondering if she thought he was actually asleep or if she knew he was faking. Either way, she moved off of him and onto the leftover space on the mattress, covering them both with the blanket.

It took Deacon what felt like ages to get up the courage to turn his back to her as she slept next to him, and even longer to fall asleep. When he woke, he felt as if he had only blinked, one second the room was pitch black, the next the sun was shining through the grimy window.

He sat up, feeling stiff from the mattress and not moving last night as he slept as far as possible from Artemis. He dared to take his sunglasses off to rub the sleep from his eyes and clean the lenses on his shirt. When he went to put them back on he noticed Artemis’ jeans strewn across the floor with his shoes and hers, as well as a familiar green button up shirt. Deacon froze, his glasses halfway onto his face as he stared at the shirt. The way his heart was beating, he figured, he’d have a heart attack by the end of the week if this kept up.

 

“These ‘Yow Gees’ are pretty tasty when they aren’t trying to rip our heads off our shoulders,” Artemis mused between licking her fingers and gnawing on one of the ribs she had.

Deacon chuckled at her words, picking at his own Yao Guai ribs. “Are you saying my cooking isn’t always up to par?” He teased.

“I’m saying that you should cook Yao Guai more often,” Artemis eyed him, sitting on the ground with a blanket covering her shoulders and back. As if she hadn’t been torturing Deacon enough with that damn green, button-missing shirt, she was now wearing simply a harness with a thin piece of fabric covering her breasts. Due to this she was colder than normal in the Commonwealth’s winter. Deacon didn’t know this because Artemis had said so, no. He knew this because her body screamed it at him from beneath that thin fabric.

“Sure. We’ll use you as bait,” Deacon agreed. Honestly, he would like to avoid all situations like this in the future, and Artemis would have agreed. She watched his smile fade as he continued to eat his share of their dinner.

They had found themselves in an eerily quiet neighborhood, Fairline Hill Estates, and soon found out why it was abandoned. Two huge, irradiated, and bloodthirsty Yao Guai had attacked them out of nowhere and gave the duo a serious run for their money.

“Hey Deeks?” Artemis got his attention after plainly staring at him for a moment or two.

“Hm?” He answered, looking from his food to her from his seat on an old chair.

“Your thoughts?” She asked him.

“I’m just thinking about how terrible of an idea it is to spend the night is a creepy place like this,” he answered her, looking around the house they were in. They already did their best barricading the front and back doors, and Artemis had laid a few mines around the neighborhood. They were in the living room of a home now, sat around a lantern and a few candles they had found, with their sleeping bags laid out on an old mattress, ready for them once their dinner was finished.

“Are you scared?” Artemis teased him.

“N-no,” Deacon responded in a jokingly terrified manner. “I’m not Travis,” he then chuckled again, listlessly tossing one of the Yao Guai rib bones aside.

“Oh we’re gonna die!” Artemis did her best impression of Diamond City Radio’s DJ.

“It’s uh... Diamond City Radio!” Deacon took a crack at it as well, sounding a thousand times more like Travis than Artemis. “Betty Hutton is on now, singin’ about a man... Right? Ugh, so stupid!” He continued, watching Artemis erupt into a fit of laughter. “Are you a pistol packin’ mama? If so, this song is about youuu!”

“Oh my God,” Artemis gasped, burning hot tears stinging her hazel blue eyes. “Next time we’re in Diamond City, remind me to stop by and hug Travis okay? We’re mean assholes.”

“I’m just imitating the media,” Deacon said in his own defense. “Besides if you hug him he’ll probably have a heart attack or piss himself.”

“I’m sorry, did I say we were mean assholes? I meant you are a mean asshole,” Artemis shook her head in laughter.

“Sister, you’re breaking my heart over here,” Deacon said, forcing his voice to sound raspy like Hancock’s.

“Really?” Artemis asked him, unable to stop smiling as wide as she was. “Do Nick.”

“I’d really rather you not ‘Do’ me, kid,” Deacon did his best matching Nick’s low voice, just to hear her laugh. He swore to himself that it wasn’t the way her breasts moved beneath that band of fabric.

“Do Codsworth!” Artemis clapped, wondering if she should be amazed or not at how good Deacon’s impressions were.

“By jolly, mum, I really don’t know what to say,” he broke character halfway through to laugh at himself, doubling over and almost falling out of his chair.

“Do Danse, holy shit, do Danse,” Artemis choked out her request, laying flat on the ground now.

“What is all this laughter, soldier? This is a no fun zone! Ad Victoriam!” Deacon shouted, trying not to laugh as he did.

“Oh my God, I love it,” Artemis said, and realized halfway through the sentence she had meant to say “you”. She was able to catch herself, but then wondered why, she surely didn’t mean that she loved him, right? Just what Deacon was doing. “MacCready,” she said quickly, to distract herself.

“I can’t impersonate MacCready,” Deacon tried to tell her seriously. “I wouldn’t know if I should rob you, fuck you, or kill you.”

“What?” Artemis sat up with her eyebrows raised, her smile still prominent. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re asking me to impersonate your merc boyfriend,” Deacon calmed his own laughter.

 _Oh right_ , Artemis remembered. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she rolled her eyes and stood from the floor, wrapping the blanket around herself tighter.

“Sure he’s not,” Deacon smiled knowingly. In all actuality he knew it was fake, it had to be, but hearing her deny it made him feel slightly less... Jealous.

“He’s not!” Artemis continued, walking over to the candles and began to blow them out. A bright flash of light preceded a loud clap of thunder by a split second and Artemis couldn't stop herself from jumping.

“I can see the regret on your face, and I have to say that staying in the creepy neighborhood was your idea,” Deacon told her, standing up from his chair.

“We could be walking to Diamond City to crash at Piper’s in this thunderstorm,” Artemis pointed out, leaning down again to continue blowing out the candles.

“This was a great idea, have I told you that already? Fantastic plan,” Deacon changed his tone quickly. He walked forward to turn out the lantern and made his way to the mattress, kicking off his shoes lazily and shrugging off his yellow "Minuteman" jacket. He pulled his belt off last and dropped it on the ground next to the mattress before crawling into his sleeping bag.

“You’re so damn messy,” Artemis said as she watched him.

“Just get over here with the blanket already, this sleeping bag is freezing,” Deacon told her, laying on his back, one of his hands under his head and the other resting on his stomach.

Artemis didn’t respond verbally but made her way over to him, debating whether or not to sleep in her pants and tube-top, or if she should pull out one of his flannel shirts. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she was going to wear one of his shirts to bed. She walked over to his pack, tossing the blanket to Deacon before rummaging through his disguises for the shirt she wanted.

“What are you doing?” He asked her, sitting up to try and position the blanket better over himself and the mattress.

“I’m not sleeping in these buckles,” Artemis pulled out the shirt, another crack of thunder accompanying a flash of bright light helping her find it. She slipped the harness off of her shoulders, which let the pants fall slightly over her slim waist. With her back to him, she pulled her arms through Deacon’s shirt, pulling her tube top down her body and stepping out of it with her pants. She buttoned only a few buttons on the shirt, not bothering to get them done straight and evenly.

Quickly, Artemis made her way under the blanket and into her own sleeping bag, laying on her back next to Deacon, with the blanket up to her mouth. “We would be a lot warmer at Piper’s,” she mumbled, closing her eyes to the darkness around them, listening to the storm blow in, and thankful the lightening had no green hue.

“Totally would prefer this,” Deacon mumbled back before there was silence between them.

The minutes ticked by slowly and Artemis was tired, sure, but she kept her focus on the shirt she was wearing and the man laying less than an inch from her. He was silent, but Artemis doubted that Deacon was asleep.

“Deeks,” she whispered to the ceiling, making her voice heard over the howling wind outside.

“Hm?” He mumbled back, turning his sunglass-hidden eyes to her.

“I’m freezing,” she told him, turning her head as well. She poked his bare foot with hers and felt his leg jump before he laughed.

“You sure do make a good human popsicle,” he joked, knowing that Artemis wouldn’t take offense to it.

Artemis still pouted, hoping that he would let her move closer to him. He wasn’t too big of a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he also wasn’t the kind of guy who would let her freeze. “Ugh, fine,” he groaned like it was some kind of big deal, extending his left arm for her. 

Artemis moved quickly, pressing her body against Deacon and laying her head on his chest, her own arm wrapping around his side as her knee was drawn up over his thighs. Finally, _finally_ , she was as close to Deacon as she had wanted to be for weeks, months even.

Deacon wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her there, reassuring Artemis that he wasn’t going to change his mind, despite how suddenly invasive she was. “Thanks, Deacon,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“Joke’s on you, I haven’t showered in a month,” he stated and Artemis smiled.

“We both bathed yesterday,” she pointed out, the smile present in her voice.

“Shh,” he chuckled and Artemis laid her ear flat against his chest to hear that sound up close. She closed her eyes, savoring the sound as it died out, giving way to the weather raging outside and Deacon’s heartbeat. She could have sworn that it was beating faster than any normal human’s heart would beat, especially when lying still. Hell, her own was bruising the inside of her ribs.

Half of her wanted to lay here like this with Deacon, memorize everything from the Abraxo detergent and tobacco smell of his shirt to how many breaths he took, and the other half wanted more. She was never greedy, but she couldn’t help but want more from this man. She slipped her hand down his torso, stopping when she met his waistband. Her breath hitched and caught in her throat, her lungs freezing as she listened to his heartbeat pick up speed.

Outside, thunder was raging and the air was full of electricity, just like the tips of Violet’s fingers as they rest on Deacon’s shirt, waistband, and bare skin of his hip bone. Artemis’ head had started to spin and she took in a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep her fingers from trembling. She felt Deacon’s hand tighten his grip slightly on her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if it was him silently asking her to stop or if he was asking for more...

Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants and to her horror, she felt him pulling her away. She started to apologize but couldn’t speak, she couldn’t get the first letter out of her lips as her back was pressed into the mattress by Deacon’s body, his mouth feverishly kissing hers.

Her body responded quickly, leaving her mind confused and in disbelief that this was real, she had to be dreaming. Still, her legs wrapped themselves around his waist and her hips ground up into him, her hands finding their way up to the back of his head and neck.

Artemis rolled her hips up into his again, feeling his tongue slip into her mouth. The motion was met with a thrust from Deacon, and she moaned into his mouth. She could already feel how wet she was for him, the heat seeping through the fabric of her briefs as Deacon pressed himself into her.

A second unfiltered moan left her as Deacon rolled his hips down into her again, pulling away from their kiss to lean back. He grabbed for the hem of the flannel shirt that she was wearing, one side in each of his fists and he pulled it apart. The three buttons that Artemis had done up flew across the wooden floor, scattering.

Artemis gasped, lightning illuminating the room and her body for a brief moment, before Deacon dipped back down, capturing one of her already stiff nipples in his hungry, warm mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Artemis gasped, arching her back up into him, his hand toying with her other breast as she felt tingles, small electric shocks, running down her body and into her legs from the contact.

“Deacon,” she whined as his mouth left her a moment later, his hand squeezing her other breast before leaving as well. His absence caused her body to crave his touch again, goose bumps spreading like wildfire across her skin. She watched him hungrily as he undid the fastenings on his pants with shaking hands.

“Up,” he rasped in a low voice as he pulled his pants and briefs down his thighs. His hands found their way back to Artemis’ waist, fingers hooking around the waistband of her underwear. Her legs fell from around him and she lifted her hips off of the mattress, allowing him to pull the soaked fabric from her and toss it aside.

His mouth found hers again, nipping at her lips as his middle and ring fingers ran up her slit, finding her entrance and slowly slipping inside. “Fuck!” She profanely gasped, her body bucking into his hand greedily. “I need you so bad,” she confessed, feeling his fingers slowly slip out before filling her again, curling slightly as he buried them inside her.  
Artemis’ fingernails clawed at Deacon’s shirt as his mouth moved down her jaw to her neck to bite and suck at the flesh above her raging pulse. He slowly fucked her with his hand a few more moments longer and Artemis couldn’t believe that she already felt a pressure building in her, she was so close to release and she didn’t even have what she needed from him.

A protest left her lips quickly a second later as his hand left her completely, only to guide his cock, slowly sinking into her. Artemis’ head fell back into the mattress with a crack of thunder that shook the old house and a flare of lightning that kept the couple lit long enough for Artemis to realize that Deacon had lost his sunglasses somewhere in their tryst. She was too lost somewhere between pain and ecstasy to be shocked, but it didn’t keep her from smiling wide because she now knew that his eyes were _blue_. 

Her hands found their way to his hips, pulling him into her until he was buried deep inside her, Artemis losing all discretion. “Fuck me, _please_ ,” she mewled and Deacon’s mouth was on her’s again, the stubble on his chin scraping against hers, stifling a loud moan as his hips ground into her roughly. Artemis struggled to match him, lifting up into him as he bucked down into her. She was already there, fighting not to come as the intensity built her up to her breaking point. Artemis wanted to stay there forever, teetering on the edge of a screaming orgasm, pinned between Deacon and a mattress.

Thunder boomed around them, taunting Artemis until she fell over that edge. Her nails dug into his back as her walls clenched hard around him, temporarily losing her voice as her nerves lit up, shooting electric shocks all over her body and her vision went spotty. “Fuck,” she choked, Deacon slowing down for her, but not stopping completely, “Jesus fucking Christ, _Deacon!_ ”

She held onto him tightly, shuddering through the orgasm with Deacon slowly fucking her, feeling like she might melt away into nothing if she didn’t have him as close as possible.

“That was beautiful,” he breathed into her ear before grinding down into her and lingering there. Artemis fought to breathe with the entirety of him inside of her, shifting slightly as he moved to kiss her flushed cheek.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” she panted, turning her head to face him. The look Artemis read on his unobscured face both said “What the hell are we doing?” and “Me too.”

“Turn over,” he responded almost immediately breaking their eye contact, and pulled away from her quickly. Artemis hadn’t noticed his haste, smiling deviously as he withdrew and she allowed him to turn her over onto her stomach before lifting her waist up to him so that she was on her hands and knees. His hands gripped onto her hips and drew her back into him, sighing as his cock reentered her. Artemis bit her lip, gripping the blanket and sleeping bags tightly in her fists.

Like before he was gentle with her at first, gradually picking up the pace. More lightning lit up the room as Deacon’s hands gripped her tighter, the slapping of his hips against her ass mixing with the clap of thunder around them. 

Some part of Artemis, as Deacon forced her back into him with each thrust, hoped that her hips would bruise so she would have proof that this was truly happening. They would be the only proof of the power, the electricity jumping between their bodies, such as the lightning cracking the dark sky outside.

Artemis couldn’t hardly hear Deacon’s grunts and enthralled sighs over her own cries and gasps. The wind outside was matching them the best, howling wantonly around the old house.

As Deacon began to lose his pace, Artemis was able to pick it up, forcing herself back into him repeatedly. Deacon’s grip tightened painfully on her hips and a moment later his body seized, choking, “Oh fuck.” The storm around them continued like some cliche as their tryst ended.

Artemis’ arms gave out first, losing her strength as Deacon slipped out and left her feeling both empty and sated. Never had she been more ready to fall asleep as she collapsed onto the mattress and knotted blanket and sleeping bags. She closed her eyes, waiting for Deacon to fall next to her, waiting to laugh or to just pass out, but he stayed on his knees behind Artemis.

“Wow,” she mumbled, the only word she could get her exhausted brain to say.

She was met with silence and slowly opened her eyes, turning to her side to get a read on Deacon, to see what he was doing, and was shocked to find him not there. She turned around quickly and watched him shrug on his “Minuteman” jacket, his glasses already back on his face and a pack of cigarettes in his hand.

Of course, cigarettes after sex, that was something she had been used to over two hundred years ago. Before Deacon opened the front door she pulled the blanket up to her eyes, too tired to get up and find her underwear or to try and button whatever was left of his flannel shirt. Artemis had intended to wait for Deacon to come back, however she had only remained awake long enough for her to wonder why he had decided to smoke outside.

It was the cold that woke her up. Her hazel-blue eyes fluttering open, eyelashes like butterfly wings, to meet the early morning sun. There was no trace of clouds visible through the windows. She blinked and stretched, saying, “That storm passed quickly,” before yawning.

She realized something was wrong, her stomach sinking as she realized she was able to stretch completely across the mattress without hitting another body. There was no scent of breakfast, just the cold, crisp, after-rain air and a slightly off putting mold. She couldn’t hear anything, the world around her was deathly silent, the natural Commonwealth orchestra.

Artemis sat up, rubbing her eyes and scolding herself for feeling afraid, until she realized the front door was still wide open. She pushed the blanket off of her, the cold air covering her in goose bumps as she stood up to retrieve her glasses. Without any circumspection, Artemis walked to the front door in only the flannel shirt, still unbuttoned and exposing her nakedness to the morning.

The feeling turned to panic as she didn’t find Deacon on the front porch. She walked further out of the house, looking around the neighborhood and spotted him two houses over, seated on a lawn chair with his elbows on his knees and his head low. She took a few steps towards him, walking down the street before stopping herself. Deacon didn’t look right, he didn’t look like he was asleep, or like he was smoking... He looked upset.

Artemis opened her mouth and drew in a breath that had his name on it but it caught in her throat and dispersed into silent and visible vapor. She was shaking and drew the flannel shirt closed, clenching the old fabric in her fists, while staring at him. He lifted his head, titled slightly in her direction and suddenly Artemis was nervous. He didn’t give any other indication that he cared she was half naked outside besides sighing. No “Morning beautiful,” or even a simple, “Hey, sorry I left the door open like an asshole and left you to freeze to death, naked in our bed.”

The next breath she took in stabbed painfully at her lungs, her eyes burning with fresh tears as she stumbled, turning around and walking back into the house she had come from. Stepping through the door she fell onto her knees with a loud sob, covering her mouth after. If Deacon hadn’t realized she was crying before, he’d definitely know now. Artemis wasn’t sure which was worse, him knowing, or him not caring.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon apologizes to Artemis.

Though Artemis had told herself for the last half mile that she was fine, that she was calm, she still had the red eyes, raw nose, and broken heart to show that she wasn’t. The second she stepped into HQ, she regretted her decision not to head to Diamond City and get berated by Piper, or to Goodneighbor and get blind drunk with Hancock.

She realized too late that HQ would raise too many questions about her being alone. Of course, as she shuffled through the crypt almost undetected by the other agents doing diligent work, Desdemona’s voice cut through the air, “Wanderer, where’s Deacon?”

Artemis stopped mid-step before she tripped over her own two feet. “I dunno,” she spoke, her eyes to the ground.

“You don’t know?” Desdemona’s voice raised slightly.

“Jesus, is he dead?” She heard Dr. Carrington ask from the other side of the large room, obviously noting her tear-stained face. Artemis only shook her head at the dirt floor and shuffled forward, to the rear of the crypt.

“Hey,” Glory’s voice tried to stop her as she dropped her pack on her unused mattress and struggled to get the bulky winter jacket off of her body. “Wanderer what happened?” Glory leaned up against the wall with her arms crossed.

Artemis didn’t answer her as she kicked off her shoes and grimy pants, scrounging through her bag for a clean pair and a fresh shirt. Traveling as far as she did alone led to a lot of dirt and a lot of fights, and she felt filthy. She had felt filthy since she left Fairline Estates without Deacon at her side. She hadn’t tried to warn him, she packed up her things and left through the back door of the house, out of Deacon’s line of sight.

“Holy shit,” she heard Glory whisper sharply, Artemis’ back still to her as she changed her shirt.

“What?” Artemis asked her, turning around as she pulled the old white shirt over her head.

“What are those?” Glory pointed to her hips and Artemis twisted, looking down at her body and found dark purple welts, roughly the size of Deacon’s hands.

Realizing she had gotten last night’s wish, Artemis quickly pulled the shirt down over her waist, before looking back up to Glory with wide eyes. “Glory,” she warned, watching Glory’s surprise turn into anger.

“He did that?” She asked, and Artemis wasn’t sure exactly what Glory was mad about, that her and Deacon had sex, the bruises, or that Artemis had returned alone.

“Glory, don’t,” Artemis rose her hands, trying to calm HQ’s other heavy.

“He did that?” She asked again, “Oh, I’m gonna kill his skinny ass when he gets back to HQ!” She shouted as she turned around and quickly stormed away.

“Glory, wait!” Artemis struggled to get her jeans on so she could follow.

“I’m gonna shove the barrel of my mini gun down his throat the next time I see him,” Glory growled as she walked over to the chalkboard and furiously wiped Deacon’s name from the surface.

“Okay, _what is going on_?” Desdemona asked, her voice full of authority as she walked over to Glory and Artemis.

Running a hand through her black hair, Artemis sighed. Coming to HQ alone was a horrible idea. “Des-” she began with a sigh.

“Make sure Deacon knows that I’m gonna murder him the next time I see him,” Glory held a finger up to Desdemona, cutting off Artemis. “Tell all the tourists and leave notes in all the dead drops.”

“Wanderer?” Desdemona asked for an explanation, her arms crossed.

“Um...” Artemis exhaled, her fists clenching to try and avoid the pain and embarrassment she was about to feel from admitting to sleeping with Deacon and then leaving him behind. “Deacon and I...”

Des already looked skeptical, predicting what Artemis was going to say. “What _really_ happened?”

“Why don’t you show her the bruises?” Glory suggested, still angry.

“Bruises?” Desdemona’s eyebrows rose high onto her forehead and she looked from Glory to Artemis, the guilt plain as day on her face.

“Am I in trouble?” She asked Des’ shocked expression.

Des stayed silent for a moment before turning to her left. “Drummer Boy,” she called, and the agent slinked out from behind a nearby pillar, looking culpable of eavesdropping. “Put out the dead drops and get Deacon’s ass back here,” she told him.

“Sure, boss,” Drummer Boy agreed before looking to Glory and Artemis. 

“And you,” Des looked back to Artemis. “Talk to Carrington about possible anemia. We’ll discuss this later.” Artemis nodded in understanding, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Bruises?” Drummer Boy asked and Artemis hid her reddening face in her hands.

“Not cool,” Glory warned him.

“You’re the one freaking out and wiping Deacon’s name of the board,” Drummer Boy shot back. “You okay, Wanderer?”

Artemis nodded, dropping her hands from her face, and remained silent. Drummer Boy reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before looking back to Glory.

“Make sure he knows he’s getting his ass handed to him when he gets back,” she told Drummer Boy sternly.

 

“Here you go, buddy,” High Rise said, taking a seat next to Deacon after setting down a mug of black coffee on the table before him.

“Thanks,” Deacon took the handle but didn’t lift the mug. “You’ve got to be one of the last agents to have any of this stuff left.”

“Been meaning to go out raiding some of the old Slocum’s but I’ve been pretty busy lately,” High Rise admitted.

“Best bet is the old HQ, but I don’t trust the place,” Deacon sighed.

“Yeah, I agree. You gotta have a death wish to go back there.”

Deacon lifted the mug then and drank to High Rise’s words. “Amen.”

“So what’s been eating at you?” High Rise tried again, for the hundredth time that month.

“You just don’t give up, do you?” Deacon asked forcing half of a fake smile onto his face. 

“I know it’s something to do with Wanderer, so don’t try to weave a tale about synths or rad roaches, or the ‘radiation flu’ bullshit you came up with last week,” High Rise shook his head. Deacon had indeed been hiding out in his home for a month. He hadn’t left once, and had to deal with a potentially deadly rumor that he had gone rogue because of a certain heavy in HQ. High Rise didn’t mind the extra help however, and he owed Deacon a lifetime of favors anyways all the times he saved his ass.

“My minds drawing a blank here, hold on,” Deacon told him, the tips of his fingers tapping on the warm ceramic of his cup. In all reality Deacon was at Ticonderoga because Artemis would eventually show up there, the key word being _eventually_. 

“The master liar has nothing to say?” High Rise laughed at him.

“I dunno, she fell in love with me and I broke her heart?” Deacon tried with a shrug.

High Rise had no idea that Deacon wasn’t lying to him this time. “As if,” he shook his head and drank from his own mug. “You’re impossible to love, sorry to say.” Deacon knew he was only joking, and he had no idea that he was speaking the truth right back to him. Deacon truly was impossible to love. “You know I can just put out a dead drop asking for a heavy, right? Get you off your lazy ass.”

“And what happens when Alpha sends Glory instead of Wanderer?” Deacon asked him.

“You explain yourself and I finally figure out what’s bothering you,” High Rise suggested, his mug now empty. Deacon quickly caught up to him, both wanting to drink the coffee before it got cold and wake himself up. It was almost four in the morning and Deacon already hadn’t slept since the night prior.

“How about I say ‘no’ and I get to keep my head on my shoulders. I’m quite attached to it,” Deacon joked, watching High Rise grab up the mug and take it over to the counter to rinse it off in the barely working sink.

“I dunno, I think you’d look better without it,” High Rise chuckled back. Under the low laughter Deacon’s ears picked up a sharp _“ding!”_

Both men were silent for a moment, listening, before High Rise turned off the faucet and pulled his pistol out of his waistband. “What the hell,” he mumbled, recognizing the sound as his elevator.

Deacon slipped out of his chair and pulled his own pistol out, flipping the safety off. There was silence for a few more seconds, Deacon trying to convince himself that it wasn’t Artemis, like he had all the times before. Except this was different, High Rise shut the power down to the elevator every night, so someone would have needed the password to the terminal below at ground level. They either had to be with HQ or the Institute.

“High Rise!” They both heard Boxer shout and Deacon sprinted out of the room first. Before he was trying to snuff out hope that Artemis had come, and now he was fearful that she actually had, and was in trouble. None of this added up, it couldn’t be good.

“Boxer-?” High Rise began to ask as the entered the lobby, thankfully not to a room full of synths. “Shit,” he almost ran into Deacon as the man in front of him stopped dead in his tracks.

He possibly would have preferred a shoot out with the Institute, instead he was met with a crippled Artemis, a half conscious Glory, and a whole lot of blood. Artemis was struggling to pull herself and Glory out of the elevator, their weapons and Glory’s armor forgotten inside. Artemis met his eyes for a moment, the hazel blue piercing through Deacon’s sunglasses. The world froze as Deacon’s heart stopped and exploded with an icy cold fear.

The moment passed and while Artemis struggled to get Glory onto her feet, Deacon and High Rise rushed down the steps, meeting up with Boxer. The agent had caught Artemis as she collapsed forward and instead of running to them, Deacon grabbed a hold of Glory before she crumbled onto the floor. In his arms, Glory was covered in a thick coat of blood.

“Get her up stairs now!” High Rise yelled at Deacon, who had once again been frozen by Artemis’ gaze. His words were enough to get Deacon moving again. He heard a Stimpak’s hiss behind him and tried not to think about the woman he had been waiting for all this time.

“Glory, stay with me,” Deacon told her, noticing her eyes rolling back into her head. He got her to where he was heading as High Rise flipped a switch and blinding lights came on in the room. Deacon dropped Glory onto a stretcher under one of the lights and High Rise ran up, wasting little time in tearing Glory’s bloody shirt down the middle.

“God, if you weren’t gonna kill me before, you are now. Glory look at me,” Deacon’s hands went to her face to try and wake her up, only to leave bloody hand prints on her cheeks as he lightly slapped her.

“There’s blood in a cooler behind you, she’s gonna need it,” High Rise told Deacon as he tried to clean the blood off of Glory’s torso to see what they were dealing with.

 

She stuck a cigarette in her mouth and flipped her lighter open. She had to shield the small flame with her free hand as she lit the cigarette, holding the carcinogenic smoke in her mouth. Once she had a reliable ember, she flipped the lighter closed and pulled the cigarette out of her lips, blowing the smoke away from herself. Artemis held the cigarette between two of her fingers then, drawing her knees up to her chin as she watched the tobacco slowly burn away.

“When did you start smoking?” She heard from the door way leading out to the balcony she was on. Artemis had known Deacon was watching her, but she had only known about two seconds before he asked his question.

“I don’t smoke,” she mumbled back in response, keeping her eyes on the cigarette. Deacon was silent, out of her peripheral sight as she stared at the cigarette, the smoke rising up and dispersing in the chilly, early morning air.

“I brought you a blanket,” Deacon tried to get a reaction out of her.

“Thank you,” she answered in a monotone. After a moment of his silence she drew in a breath and gathered her courage to look over to him. “How’s Glory?” She asked, her eyes scanning over him in a fresh change of clothes, a blanket folded up and held in his arms.

“She’s stable,” Deacon told her, offering the blanket to her.

“Trade you,” Artemis held up her cigarette. Deacon stepped towards her, wary of the edge of the balcony they were on, and traded her the blanket for the cigarette. Instead of stepping back, like Artemis had expected, Deacon took a seat on the ground next to her as he took a drag from the cigarette. She missed that smell so much, detergent and cigarettes, that she wanted to cry.

“I need to talk to you,” Deacon started.

“I don’t want to talk,” Artemis responded quickly, unfolding the oversized blanket and wrapping it around herself.

Deacon watched her as she tried to avoid him while sitting right next to him. “I have some things I need to tell you before I chicken out.”

Artemis turned her head to face him, silently waiting. Deacon took a deep breath in, understanding her silence.

“When I was young, a hell of a long time ago, I was... Well, scum. I was a bigot. A very violent bigot.”

Artemis rolled her eyes and looked away from him. “You’re trying to sell me more lies, Deacon? Really?” Her tone was filled with more spite than she meant.

With a sigh, Deacon continued. “Just hear me out, make your judgments then.” She was upset, but her ears forced her to listen and her heart forced her to be patient. 

“I ran with a gang in University Point. We called ourselves the UP Deathclaws. For kicks we’d terrorize anyone that we thought was a Synth,” Deacon rubbed the back of his head, holding the cigarette in his mouth. Artemis looked back at him then, her head resting on her knees. “We kept egging each other on. Started with some property damage, graduated to some beat downs. Then, inevitably, a lynching.” Deacon drew in smoke from his cigarette and Artemis’ eyebrows drew together, realizing that he looked genuinely upset. “The Claw’s leader was convinced we’d finally found and killed a Synth. Looking back, I’m not so sure.”

“You... Murdered someone?” Artemis asked him, her knees falling away from her as she picked up her head and her back straightened. Sure she had killed people before as well, they both had. Only they had killed in self defense, or protecting innocents. In Artemis’ mind, that wasn’t murder but self preservation and community service. 

“That one was enough for me. It was his eyes... Those eyes haunt me,” Deacon finished off the last of his cigarette with a huff and rubbed it out on the ground next to him. “Bulging... So I turned my back on my “brothers”-- broke all contact. Time passed, I became a farmer if you can believe that.” She couldn’t see him as a farmer. Someone as lazy and messy as he was wouldn’t last a day on a farm in the Commonwealth. She rose an eyebrow behind her glasses to show that she didn’t believe him.

Deacon tried to smile back at her but he couldn’t. Instead he pushed on, “Then one day I found someone. She saw something in me that I didn’t know what there.”  
Instantly Artemis felt her heart drop out of her chest and fall the thirty stories to the pavement below them. “Oh,” she said softly. It was ridiculous to think Deacon had never been with someone before her, but if he was talking about it and this wasn’t bullshit, this “someone” had to be a big deal. “What was she like?” She squeaked out.

“Barbara,” Deacon continued as he watched Artemis’ reaction, “well, she was... she just was. She had a smile like on those old magazine covers. Her eyes...” his whole demeanor changed, just mentioning this other woman’s name looked like it helped relieve his nerves. “We were trying for kids. Eking out a living.”

His words were a knife stabbing into her heartless chest, and she turned away to keep her pain hidden. “Then one day... Turns out my Barbara... She was a synth. She didn’t know that, I certainly didn’t. I don’t know how the Deathclaws found out. But... There was blood.”

Artemis looked back to Deacon then, feeling a whole new pain. It was one thing to know that Deacon had been committed to another woman wholeheartedly, but to know he had seen her die, like she had seen her husband... It almost made her angry that Deacon would have to know what that pain felt like. “They killed her?” She asked him.

Deacon was silent in his response, instead reaching out to her, beckoning her towards him. Artemis couldn’t resist but she appeared hesitant, slowly unwrapping the blanket from around herself before crawling into his lap and sitting with her back against his chest. Deacon threw the blanket around himself before wrapping it and his arms around Artemis in a cocoon of warmth.

Deacon held her close to him, both of his arms wrapped around her stomach and waist. He sighed softly into her neck and shoulder as he continued talking in a much quieter tone. “I don’t remember much clearly after that. I know I killed most of the Claws. I must have made a big impression. The Railroad contacted me, figuring I’d be sympathetic, seeing that I lost my wife. And, well, what I did afterwards.”

“They deserved what you did to them,” Artemis reassured him, thinking back to him and Nick helping her take out Kellogg. That felt like such a long time ago now.

“They deserved worse,” Deacon tightened his grip around her. The hardest bit to explain to her was still coming and he felt it forming a painful lump in his throat, one he couldn’t quite swallow.

“So I figured what the hell, I’ll play spy for them, as long as it kept bigots like the Claws from hurting more people. I stayed with them because no one knew who I was and I kept telling lie after lie. A little over two decades ago, I was the only person to survive an onslaught from the Institute at our HQ, and just barely at that.”

Artemis took in a deep breath, leaning back into him and closing her eyes as she listened. “A lot of agents left after that, it was the first real hit the Railroad had taken and I thought about dropping out myself.”

“Why didn’t you?” Artemis asked him, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I didn’t have anything else. There were twelve, thirteen of us left maybe. Alpha at the time was a man named Wyatt. Was a real reluctant leader but he did a good job. Until he was killed in another attack several years later on Christmas, ‘73 I think it was. We were better prepared that time.

“The next alpha was complete asshat,” Deacon earned a chuckle from Artemis and felt his nervousness subside for a moment. “Went by Pinky. Took me a year and a half to get kicked out of HQ just so I wouldn’t have to deal with him directly. Poor Des took most of his shit after, from what I heard.”

“You got kicked out of HQ on purpose?” Artemis asked him, turning to try and look at his face. That was a definite Deacon thing to do, so she trusted this part of his story, at least more than him having once been a farmer.

“Best thing to have happened to me at the time. It’s when I started getting good with my intel,” Deacon explained as he shifted below her, resting his head next to hers on her shoulder. “Learned some interesting rumors, figured out ways to make caps fast, did some exploring... Fell for another girl.”

Artemis’ squeezed her eyes tightly closed, trying not to wince at his last few words. She had to admit, however, it was fairly strange to be damn well cuddling with Deacon as he continued to recount his love life.

“I shamelessly stalked her,” Deacon’s voice was shaking slightly, and it didn’t slip by Artemis unnoticed, “For... Years. She didn’t even know I existed. I leaned everything I could about her, who she was, where she used to live and work and intern... Where she went to school.”

A feeling slowly crept up Artemis and she fought it away before it even became a thought. Deacon was lying, he had to be, this was some lesson he was teaching her, he wasn’t actually talking about _her_.

“I read all the same books she studied, at least the ones I could find. I even found some mentions of her in old terminals in Cambridge and at the library-”

“Stop it,” Artemis cut him off sharply. She wasn’t quite sure what she felt, anger, hurt, an overbearing sense of happiness?

“I-I was too scared to let you out of that pod. You were the only constant I had for so long--”

“How long?” Artemis choked, turning around to face him again. She was crying and she still wasn’t sure why, unless it was just an overwhelming combination of everything.

It took Deacon ages to get the courage to answer truthfully, trying to gauge the reaction she would have. “Twelve years,” he admitted with a heavy sigh.

Artemis’ own breath caught in her chest as her mouth fell open. “Tw-t...” she tried to repeat the number but only ended up fumbling over her tongue. She wasn’t sure what to do, was she supposed to pull away, was she supposed to yell at him, was she supposed to cry on his shoulder? Deacon was no help, he only stared back at her with his sunglasses and a cross between a scared and sad expression.

“Are you lying to me?” She asked him, moving out of his lap to fully face Deacon.

“No,” he responded simply.

“Prove it,” she snapped back and Deacon blinked behind his sunglasses.

“Uh...” Deacon started. How would he prove he wasn’t lying? He usually had to do close to the opposite. “You married Nate on March first, twenty seventy-seven, you had Shaun three months later on June twelfth, twenty seventy- seven. Uh, you were studying law part time at Suffolk County and if you hadn’t gotten pregnant you planned to graduate by twenty eighty-one. Um... You used to work at a The Super Duper Mart in Lexington and that’s how you met--”

Artemis had moved forward and gently kissed him. It was upsetting that she had been asleep twelve years longer than she should have been, and it was undoubtedly weird that Deacon could just pull these random facts out of his brain to toss at her, but nobody else in her life would have cared that much. Nobody else would have found her so fascinating.

Artemis crawled back into his lap, facing him this time, with her arms wrapping around his neck. Deacon’s own hands moved from her waist to her shoulders and he gently pushed her away.

“Artemis, I... I don’t deserve you being okay with this,” he tried to tell her firmly. In response she reached up and took the sunglasses off his head, removing them from his eyes. Deacon lost most of his demeanor then and visibly swallowed.

Gently setting down the sunglasses, Artemis quickly asked, “Are you gonna disappear again?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to get to,” he scared her for a split second before continuing, making sure she was looking at him by placing one of his hands on Artemis’ cheek. “I can’t. I can’t leave. I can’t deal with losing you... You’re the only thing I have.”

“Liar,” Artemis mumbled, tilting her head into the hand he had on the side of her face.

“You’re the only thing that matters,” Deacon tried, his thumb gently running across her cheek.

“Such a liar,” Artemis continued, closing her eyes and kissing the palm of his hand.

“I need you,” he admitted and her blue eyes snapped open to look at him again. “You’re the only friend I’ve got, the only person I fully trust.”

“This is a pretty fucked up friendship if this is what you consider ‘friends’,” Artemis told him and succeeded in making Deacon smile for a moment.

“Hell, I wouldn’t ask for more from you... But, I figured you should know.”

Artemis watched him, feeling hugely relieved despite everything. “Can’t we be more than friends?” She asked him with a false pout, and felt his hand leave her cheek to push her short black hair behind her ear.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” Deacon admitted and Artemis just smiled at him.

“You can start by wrapping this blanket back around me and letting me complain to you about the shitty night I’m having,” she turned back around, sitting in his lap again and pressing her back into his chest.

“ _You_ had a shitty night?” Deacon laughed, returning to holding her like he was before, both of his arms wrapped around her with the blanket around them both. “Oh man, I bet you mine was way worse,” he teased. Suddenly Deacon was back to his usual self.

Artemis reached down into her pants pocket and pulled out the odd piece of tech she and Glory had nearly died trying to retrieve. “Try me,” she said, holding it up for Deacon to see without actually turning to look at him.

“What... What is _that_?” Deacon asked, not giving Artemis the reaction she believed she would receive. His tone was sharp, borderline angry. She turned slightly to look at him then, watching his face go pale. “Is that a fucking Courser chip?” He asked her looking from the tech to her face.

“Yes,” she answered, trying to ignore his reaction as she put the chip back into her pocket.

“Hey,” one of Deacon’s hands pulled her face back up to look at him. “Don’t you ever do something that stupid without me again. _Ever_.”

“I can kill all the Coursers I want as long as you tag along?” Artemis tested him. His eyes looked dead serious and the way he spoke was something new. She briefly wondered how many times he looked at her like that beneath his sunglasses, if ever.

“You have to use me as your meat shield,” he told her, the serious look in his eyes was unwavering.

“Mm,” she pretended to think for a moment, “I don’t think so.”

“At least don’t bring _Glory_ with you the next time you decide to take on the Synth killers, okay?” Artemis turned her head back to face the sunrise, something she never thought she and Glory were going to see again just a few hours ago.

“She was the only one who would go with me. We went to the Glowing sea about twelve days ago to find a rogue Institute scientist. Been tracking down a courser for a week now to get that chip for Tom.” As Artemis explained she leaned back into Deacon’s chest, feeling his arms tighten around her.

“Of course she was the only one. She’s the only person who knows what they’re doing outside of HQ,” Deacon mumbled into her neck, a chill running down his spine with the realization of how close he actually came to losing Artemis for good. This whole thing was so stupid of him, he should have just bit the bullet and went back to HQ the same day Artemis left him at Fairline Hills. “I should have been there, not Glory.”

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” Artemis told him with a sigh, closing her eyes once more. She just wanted to be at peace with the world for that moment.

“I’m sorry,” Deacon admitted anyway, mumbling into her neck. Artemis felt the two words send a shock wave down her body and through her legs all the way to her feet. Deacon had definitely noticed the sudden change and kissed her neck, furthering her reaction.

Artemis forced her breathing to be steady as she opened her hazel blue eyes and looked over at him. “This is you being sorry?” She asked him quietly and watched the corners of Deacon’s mouth raise into a mischievous smile.

“If you want,” he responded, one of his hands moving down her body to the hem of her pants and stopping. Artemis nodded silently, her cheeks already flushed and pink, and accepted a kiss from Deacon. She had a fleeting worry that he would disappear on her again, but this was all him.

“You’re shaking,” He noticed, feeling her trembling as she fought with her pants button so she could slide them down her thighs and let Deacon in.

She was going to respond to him, make some astute remark regarding the freezing morning air, but her voice was lost in a sudden whimper as his fingers slid teasingly across the fabric of her underwear. Artemis rose her hips up slightly, pressing against the teasing touch of his fingers. Deacon smiled in response, his lips pressed into her neck.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you missed me,” he mumbled, his hot breath causing goose bumps to erupt over her skin.

She wanted to tell him to shut up and stop acting so smug but oh God the sound of his voice made her feel weak.

“Shh,” he chuckled as his fingers slipped past the elastic and fabric barrier, feeling how slick she was while teasing her entrance. The motion earned a moan from the woman in his arms. “You’re explaining this to High Rise if we get caught.”

“Nobody--” she tried to reassure him but was caught off guard as his nimble fingers gently spread her apart and found her clit. 

“What?” Deacon asked as her head fell back into his shoulder, her tongue caught tightly between her teeth. “I didn’t catch that, beautiful,” he teased while rubbing circles over her. His other hand found her breast as Artemis lifted herself up slightly, giving Deacon an easier angle to reach. He took advantage and slid his hand down, his middle finger teasing her entrance.

Artemis gasped, her hips trying to lift into his hand but he evaded her, moving as slow as he pleased and barely slipping inside of her before sliding out. He moved his mouth to her neck once more and sucked on the pulse he could see in her neck. The cold, logical part of Deacon felt like he was too old to be giving hickeys, but the rest of him just didn’t care.

“This doesn’t feel apologetic,” the quiet tone of Artemis’ voice made it obvious that she was becoming vexed by his antics.

Deacon’s mouth left her neck, forming a devious smile as he stated, “Sorry, boss,” while pressing inside of her to his knuckle. “How about we get off this deathtrap balcony and to my bed?” He suggested quietly, whispering his suggestion into Artemis’ ear as he worked her.

Artemis responded with a quiet moan and the want to get off of the balcony, out of the cold, and get Artemis into his bed started to feel more like a need. He added a second finger and felt her tense in his grip. Deacon was gentle with her for a moment before picking up his original speed, with his fingers hooking slightly and the heel of his palm rubbing against her sex.

He looked to her face, her head still thrown back onto his shoulder with her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her eyes still shut. On her neck he saw the bright red and dark purple bruise he left over her pulse. He felt her body writhing against his, and heard her panting and whimpering, all thanks to the two fingers he had inside of her.

“You look so beautiful,” he murmured, lips close to her ear as his arm flexed to move his hand. Artemis gasped something inaudible at the sound of his voice and he chuckled while her body began to tense. “Don’t fight this,” he added in the same low voice.

“Fuck,” her voice cracked as Deacon sped up his movements, his other hand still palming her breast through her shirt. He considered briefly covering her mouth to help silence her but Artemis beat him too it, one hand slapping over her mouth and the other moving to his wrist while her thighs clamped shut, trying to cease his movements as she came. She jerked forward, her head leaving Deacon’s shoulder with her grip almost painful on his wrist.

Deacon’s free hand moved from her breast and snaked across her abdomen, pulling her gently back to him.

“Can I have my hand back, please?” Deacon asked her with his voice just as quiet and low as he’d been using, the same tone that threw her over the edge. He watched Artemis turn her head and her blue eyes met his. He felt her legs relax and her hand pulled his from between her legs. Instead of releasing his wrist however, Deacon felt her other hand guide his to her mouth and his jaw went slack. Any trace of smugness he had fell from his face as she pulled the two fingers he had inside of her into her mouth. The tips of his fingers reached into the back of her throat and he felt pressure from her tongue and lips, sucking on them as she slowly pulled them back out of her mouth. Only then did she release his hand, shifting in his lap so she could kiss him.

Deacon could taste her as Artemis slipped her tongue into his mouth briefly. “You mentioned something about a bed?” She barely pulled away from him and watched the shocked expression on Deacon’s face fade into a devious smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap its June already? I promise I've been writing this story since the last update, just not chronologically. I've updated the tags and chapter count for this story as well because... well writing. When this first started off it was literally just a way to blow off steam for not being able to romance Deacon in game and now I'm like "What am I doing? this can be so much better!"
> 
> I have another part or two I need to add to chapter seven but I'll upload immediately once they're done, and I have eight through ten pretty much finished so hopefully we won't go another six weeks between updates again.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis and Deacon prepare for her departure.

Artemis awoke mid afternoon in only her underwear, a blanket tangled around her legs. She lay still for a moment, debating whether or not to fall back asleep or put effort into fully waking up. She turned her head to her left and found Deacon still laying next to her, just as tangled in the blanket as she was.

Rubbing at her eyes, Artemis sat up on her elbows and continued to observe the sleeping agent next to her. She hadn’t been able to just look at him like this, without having to worry about Super Mutants or Ferals catching them off guard while he was switching disguises, or Raiders finding their camp in the middle of the night. She hadn’t been able to just look at him, she hadn’t been able to just watch him breathe in and out slowly as he slept. She hadn’t been able to run her fingers along the muscles in his arms, or up his abs and onto his chest.

“Deacon,” she softly sighed, deciding to try and wake him up. “Hey Deeks,” she continued, leaning down to plant a trail of soft kisses across his collarbone. However gently she was trying to wake him up, she still felt him jerk suddenly beneath her. She moved back and kept one hand on his chest, her other hand catching his wrist as he blindly swung at her while trying to move away.

“Hey, it’s me,” she laughed despite how startled Deacon was and he blinked a few times before relaxing back into the mattress.

“Holy shit,” he grumbled, rubbing at his face. “Wanderer, what are you doing?” He asked her, feeling her lips press back into his chest in small, light kisses. “What if I had a knife or--”

Artemis pressed a finger to his mouth to stop him with a small, “Shh.” She moved up from his chest to replace her finger with her lips. She moved along the line of his mouth, with Deacon sleepily trying to kiss her back, before moving to his jaw and down to his neck.

“What are you doing?” He asked again, closing his eyes to the sensation of her lips moving over his skin.

“I’m worshiping you,” Artemis giggled before swinging one of her legs around his waist so she was straddling him, moving down as she started trailing kisses down his chest.

“You’re _what_?” He laughed with her, however it sounded more nervous than relaxed.

“You heard me,” Artemis looked up to him, both of his arms folded leisurely behind his head as he watched her. “Can I ask you a question?” She asked him then, stopping just before his navel. Artemis laid her chin on his abdomen, settling her body between his legs.

“How ‘bout no?” Deacon tried with his eyebrows pushed together and Artemis pouted. “What question?” He asked, still looking nervous.

“What’s your name?” Artemis bit her bottom lip, and laughed when Deacon rolled his eyes and dropped his head back onto his pillow.

“Oh God, you already forgot my name?” He groaned, “That hardly even counted as a one night stand, it was morning already.”

“Deacon, I’m serious,” Artemis lifted her torso with her arms so she could still see his face.

“You just said my name,” Deacon rubbed at his face. He sighed a moment after with the look Artemis was giving him. “I’m serious too. My name is Deacon.”

“Just like my name is Wanderer?” Artemis sat back, allowing Deacon to sit up as well.

“You know, boss,” Deacon started, trying to tiptoe around the minefield he suddenly found himself in. “You look absolutely stunning right now.”

Artemis rose an eyebrow at him, this new “boss” thing catching her off guard, “Not working.”

“Okay let’s try this, why do you want to know?” Deacon asked, sounding too much like a prewar therapist for Artemis’ liking.

“Why do I wanna know the name of my best friend, partner, and lover? You’re seriously asking me that question?” Artemis responded sharply, crossing her arms over her bare chest.

“Uh, Deacon, Deacon, and whatever the hell you want to call me as long as we’re fucking.” Deacon felt immediate relief when he heard Artemis laugh at him.

“I’m sure you’d object to me calling you a lot of names in bed,” she chuckled, before moving into his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist. His hands held onto her as she settled before him, running lightly across her bare back.

“Like RJ for one,” Deacon mumbled in false discontent.

“Come on, you know that whole thing was just to get your attention,” Artemis teased him.

“And it worked wonders, I hate the kid for no reason.”

“You don’t _hate_ him,” Artemis rolled her eyes.

“Fine, MacCready strongly aggravates me for no reason,” Deacon reworded his admission to her.

“Oh my God, your name is Robert, isn’t it?” Artemis teased him with a fake gasp.

“Don’t even start, I’d rather be named Strong than Robert,” Deacon told her seriously, but it only made her laugh again.

“What about Preston?” She asked him through her laughter.

“Sounds too proper, definitely not as proper as Codsworth though,” Deacon laughed as well.

“If you want proper, how about Contagions Vulnerability Robotic Infirmary Engineer?” Artemis tried to sound serious, but couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden confusion.

“Wait, that’s what Curie stands for? I mean Cuv-curv... Where the hell did the ‘U’ come from?”

“Don’t over think this, Nicholas,” Artemis smiled with the name.

“Might as well call me Dogmeat,” Deacon over exaggerated a sigh.

“Oh yeah because you really want me screaming ‘Dogmeat!’ when you’re having your way with me,” Artemis shook her head before leaning in to kiss along his neck and shoulder.

“Rolls off the tongue a helluva lot easier than Contagious Robot Nanny,” Deacon managed to say with a slightly disgusted tone before they both burst out into laughter. “That name never leaves this room,” Deacon leveled out his laughter enough to say.

“Nah, I like it too much,” Artemis teased, leaning back just to get a good view of Deacon’s face. “Its right up there with Johnathan, Caitlyn, and _Piper _,” Artemis stated, expecting him to resent the very idea of sharing a name with the reporter they knew. Instead she saw Deacon turn as white as a prewar sheet, his hands suddenly gripping her waist. Artemis was puzzled by his reaction until a slow realization settled over her, it wasn’t the name Piper, or even Caitlyn, but Johnathan that had gotten to him.__

__“Your name is Johnathan isn’t it?” Artemis asked him quietly._ _

__“I haven’t been called that since my mom died,” he responded with a shaky and dry voice._ _

__Artemis watched him with a guilt swelling in her stomach, she should have just dropped the subject. She shouldn’t have even asked him. She looked away, at a loss for what to say to him, and spotted his sunglasses by the bed. Artemis got off of Deacon’s lap and bent over to pick them up, before handing them over._ _

__He looked down to them after a moment before taking them and slipping them over his eyes, only looking up to her afterwards, swinging his legs over the mattress so he’d be sitting on the edge. Artemis tried to smile at him through her guilt._ _

__“I-I used to introduce myself as John. The um... The guys used to call me Johnny. Barb would call me Jay--” He started and suddenly found he couldn’t stop spewing the truth, like he couldn’t stop lying for the past twenty years. Artemis was able to stop him however, sitting back on his lap with a knee on either of his sides and her lips pressing softly into his._ _

__“I like Deacon better,” she muttered into his lips, his stubble scratching at her chin, and felt his arms hold onto her like she might float away from him._ _

__“Me too,” Deacon agreed a moment later as she pulled away only to find her own reflection in his sunglasses. “But I think Contagious Robot Nanny could actually grow on me,” Deacon suddenly snapped back to his usual self. Artemis wanted to laugh, to feel relieved, but she was still worried._ _

__“Maybe we should try it out?” Artemis asked instead, her tone was nothing but suggestive._ _

__Deacon took a second to think up a witty reply but Artemis was already lifting out of his lap and kneeling before him on the floor. “Um...” Deacon struggled to respond, still moving through the sudden emotions. Artemis already had her fingers around the elastic of Deacon’s underwear but she couldn’t pull them down with the way he was sitting._ _

__“Please?” She asked quietly before her teeth softly grazed the inside of his thigh._ _

__“Holy shit, am I dead? Did I die?” He asked her in response and Artemis giggled at him, finally able to pull his underwear down his legs as he lifted his hips off the mattress._ _

__“I don’t think so,” Artemis left the white fabric around one of his ankles before loosely taking his suddenly attentive cock in one hand and running the flat of her tongue slowly up his length._ _

__“No, I’m not-- oh _fuck_ ,” his statement ended in a quiet hiss as she closed her lips around his head and sucked in. Artemis looked up to him, her cheeks hollow, watching at he leaned back and bit into one of his fists._ _

__“You okay, Deeks?” Artemis asked him quietly, her mouth leaving his dick with a _pop!_ as she noticed his whole body tense up._ _

__“Oh yeah,” he answered shakily with a high voice, his fist leaving his mouth momentarily. “Been a wh-while,” his words faulted with a gasp, Artemis purposely lowering her mouth around him again, this time sinking halfway down._ _

__“How long?” She mumbled against the head of his cock before swirling her tongue around it. She doubted that she’d get a coherent answer out of the profane moan leaving his mouth, but Deacon prevailed._ _

__“Two decades,” he breathed as he watched her blow him._ _

__Artemis’ blue eyes met his sunglasses again and her hand replaced her mouth temporarily, “Twenty One. I win,” she smiled before resuming._ _

__Deacon had half a mind to argue with her, instead a submissive plea left him. “Beautiful, you win everything as long as you keep doing what you’re doing with your fucking tongue,” the last words out of his mouth lost most of their structure but Artemis giggled with him still inside of her. He nearly lost the fight with his hips to not thrust up and into her throat._ _

__“Relax,” she told him quickly, her mouth barely leaving him for a second this time as she picked up speed._ _

__“I can’t,” his words left through clenched teeth. He was already dangerously close to blowing his load, but he really, _really_ , didn’t want her to stop this absolute witchcraft._ _

__As he had stated moments prior, she won the brief fight with her hand cupping his balls. Deacon fell back onto the mattress, biting his tongue and suddenly wondering why he was so easily undone and why she was so Goddamn good at this. Artemis’ hadn’t even reacted this way earlier that morning on the balcony. Then again it had been a few years for that even, and he hadn’t had his tongue pressed against her clit._ _

__“Fuck, I...” he lost his words with the thought of tasting her. He realized suddenly that getting off a bit early would be worth it, if he’d be able to bury his face between her legs afterwards._ _

__He was at a loss for a response when Artemis suddenly grabbed one of his hands and guided it to the back of her head, still not missing a beat in her movements._ _

__“I’m... Hey I’m c-close,” he tried to warn her, her eyes met his shades again as he lifted his head to watch her and his jaw nearly dropped when he saw her give him a thumbs up.  
“Oh God, fuck,” his mouth ran on it’s own accord while his fingers gripped around her dark hair and pulled her head down faster around him. His hips instinctively shot up and away from the mattress with the first wave of his orgasm and he couldn’t properly react when he heard Artemis quietly gag with nearly all of him in her mouth._ _

__“Jesus Christ,” he cursed under his breath, for a brief moment feeling like he might die if he let go of Artemis’ hair while he spilled everything he had into her mouth. The few seconds felt like minutes to him, and once it was over he was finally capable of letting go of Artemis and letting his hips relax back into the mattress._ _

__Instead a shockingly loud knock came from the opposite side of the bedroom door and Deacon sat up quickly. Artemis gagged for real that time and pulled back from his lap. He quickly looked from the door to Artemis and found her eyes wide and one of her hands full of his cum, and her other over her mouth._ _

__“Jesus, _what_?” Deacon called out, feeling just as startled as she was, and even a tad angry._ _

__“You awake yet? Glory’s coming to and I can’t find Wanderer,” High Rise called from the other side of the door. Deacon and Artemis shared a quick glance before he stood up and grabbed the shirt they had used as a rag last night and handed it to Artemis before quickly pulling up his underwear. He pointed to his pack as he gathered up his jeans._ _

__“Stealth Boy,” he breathed, barely making a sound as he stood up from snatching his jeans off the floor and quickly jumped into them._ _

__Artemis spit the rest of his ecstasy out of her mouth before wiping her hands on the already filthy shirt. She grabbed up her own clothes quickly from the floor before digging out the Stealth Boy in Deacon’s pack and disappearing from sight._ _

__“Hold on,” Deacon moved to the door and opened it for High Rise. “Glory saying anything yet?”_ _

__“Just asking about Wanderer, can’t find her anywhere,” High Rice poked his head into the room, and obviously didn’t find what he was looking for._ _

__“I’m not hiding her,” Deacon said in a completely calm voice, like he hadn’t just received a blowjob from the most stunningly beautiful woman in the ‘Wealth. He left the doorway then to pick up his shirt from the floor and pull it over his head._ _

__“Not saying you are, man,” High Rise chuckled at Deacon’s false honesty. “You gonna come say hello?”_ _

__“You gonna be my body shield?” Deacon asked back and stepped out of the room, making sure to close the door behind him._ _

__Artemis waited a few seconds before letting out the breath she was holding and turned off the Stealth Boy. She threw her clothes on quickly before stashing the Stealth Boy in Deacon’s pack and double checking that she still had the Courser Chip in her pants pocket. She opened the door cautiously, looking up and down the hall before stepping out and quietly closing the door behind her. Artemis made her way to the nearby bathroom to fix her disheveled hair and make sure her face was clean. After combing through her hair and brushing her teeth with her fingers, Artemis tried not to run down the hallway to where she knew Glory was in Ticonderoga’s makeshift triage room._ _

__“Get him out of here, I’m not kidding, I’m going to kill him,” she could hear Glory’s voice from outside the room, relief already washing over Artemis with a smile._ _

__“Hey,” she poked her head into the room, spotting High Rise and Deacon, as well as Glory laying on her gurney, her chest wrapped up in gauze._ _

__“He’s here,” Glory was pointing at Deacon and Artemis barely glanced at him._ _

__“Yeah, he’s here,” Artemis practically waved off the statement, walking over to her. “How are you?”_ _

__“I got shot in the chest about five times and _he is here_!” Glory continued to point. Artemis sighed before actually looking to Deacon, suppressing the urge to smile or blush with what they had just done._ _

__“Told you this wasn’t a good idea,” he mumbled to High Rise as far as physically possible from Glory while still being in the same room._ _

__“Nah, it’s a great idea because now I can find out why you’ve been here for the past month,” High Rise crossed his arms over his chest and looked like he was waiting for Deacon and Artemis to explain themselves._ _

__“Oh you mean he didn’t tell you?” Glory asked him, still overtly angry._ _

__“It was nothing,” Artemis butted in quickly before Glory could say more. “Just an argument, and its fine now because Deacon apologized,” Artemis looked from High Rise to Glory, “He apologized so we’re okay now.”_ _

__“You’re ‘okay’ now?” Glory tried sitting up in her gurney but Artemis stopped her. “The way you looked when you walked into HQ that day was not okay...” she looked between Artemis and Deacon before her anger faded from her face. “Fine. Fine, but he’s not getting a third chance. That shit happens again and he’s eating my minigun.”_ _

__

__“There has to be someone else that can go,” Deacon stressed, the panic evident on his face, even if his eyes were hidden by sunglasses._ _

__“Deeks,” Artemis sighed buttoning up her green shirt that Tinker Tom had woven Ballistic fiber into. He had even found and sewn on a new button for the one Artemis had ripped off what seemed like ages ago. “It’s my _son_. I have to do this.”_ _

__Deacon, who was leaning up against the cabin’s door with his arms crossed over his chest, sighed. “I could get him back,” he tried. He couldn’t just give in, he was to scared.  
Artemis shook her head and moved towards him, allowing his arms to slip around her and pull her close. She held onto him tightly because Artemis wasn’t lying to herself, she was scared too. The giant metal, duct tape, and electricity contraption Tinker Tom had thrown together had been scaring her for a week since she first laid eyes on it._ _

__“I have to do this,” she mumbled into Deacon’s chest before looking up to him. “I’m coming back, okay?”_ _

__Deacon shook his head, “Not okay. You shouldn’t do this.” Artemis frowned up at him. If anyone could convince her not to go, it was Deacon. She had to, however, it was _Shaun_. It’s her _baby boy_ that she’s doing this for. “I keep telling you,” Deacon’s hands went to her face as he tried to stress his reasoning to her. “I have a bad feeling about this. My gut is ripping itself apart, I can’t sleep, my instincts are screaming for you to stop--”_ _

__Artemis rose one of her hands and placed it over his mouth to stop him. “I know,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “You’re always telling me to play into my instincts.”_ _

__“If you can’t feel this, you aren’t doing it right,” Deacon grabbed onto her hand as she removed it from his mouth and held onto it with his own._ _

__“You’ve heard of motherly instincts, right?” She matched the grip Deacon had on her hand and tried to smile up at him. Instead her eyes began to sting as they filled up with tears. With his free hand, Deacon ran his fingers through Artemis’ dark hair and leaned down to press his lips onto hers in a pained kiss._ _

__When Artemis was sure she wouldn’t burst into tears, she let go of Deacon’s hand and slung her arms around his neck, kissing him back hungrily. She tried not to let her mind tell her that this could be the last time she kissed him. Deacon must have felt the same way however, because he reached down quickly and drew her up from the ground with both of his hands under her thighs. In response, Artemis wrapped her legs around his waist and felt Deacon turn her around so her back was pressed against the cabin door instead of his. She would have laughed if her tongue wasn’t currently in his mouth, so instead she pressed her hips into him, creating friction between them both._ _

__“You’re _exhausting_ , you know that boss?” Deacon pulled away to tease her while still pinning her between his body and the door._ _

__“Wasn’t my idea to stay up all night,” Artemis ignored the new nickname he had for her and smiled at him, like she wasn’t about to be teleported to God knows where._ _

__“Not my fault, look at you,” Deacon, pulled back further to give himself a better view of her._ _

__“Stop,” Artemis was finally able to laugh._ _

__“You know, some dusty old philosopher thought people were made of metals that defined their character. And you, my friend, are solid gold,” Deacon told her seriously before letting Artemis back onto her feet. Artemis kept her smile, despite Deacon still casually throwing around the “F” word._ _

__“Hey,” she responded, both of her hands now resting on his chest. “I promise I’m coming back, okay? This is too good to skip out on.” She couldn’t promise such a thing, and Deacon knew that as well but he still nodded._ _

__“I aim to please,” he responded in a dorky voice, his obvious quoting of MacCready prompting an immediate eye roll from Artemis before she turned around to face the door. She felt ready to face what was outside, but her hand still hesitated on the door handle. “Hey, I’m right behind you, Artemis,” Deacon added, trying to boost her confidence when he had absolutely none himself._ _

___Not where I’m going_ , Artemis thought before opening the cabin door and stepping out onto the patio. Further down between the mess hall and workshop sat the teleporter, shooting bright blue sparks and bolts into the early morning air. Beside it, Artemis could see Tinker Tom, Desdemona, and Dr. Carrington near the controls. With a sigh leaving her in a white fog, she decided waiting around wasn’t making this easier._ _

__“Hey,” Deacon stopped her and she looked back to see him pointing at the mess hall door. “Nick is here?” Deacon questioned._ _

__“He is,” Artemis responded, recognizing the trench coat and fedora. The Synth was leaning half in the doorway, smoking a cigarette. “Come on,” she beckoned and made her way towards him instead of the blaring death trap she was destined for._ _

__“Blue!” She was met with Piper’s voice before she even entered the mess hall._ _

__“Piper?” Artemis asked back as the reporter suddenly ran out of the building to hug her._ _

__“Hey kid,” Nick greeted her as well._ _

__“What the Hell?” Piper asked before Artemis could say anything in question or greet Nick back. “I mean I know I’m not supposed to ask questions,” Piper pulled away from Artemis to glance back at Glory, who was seated with Drummer Boy at a table drinking coffee and eating breakfast. “But what the Hell are you thinking, have you seen that thing?”_ _

__“Thanks Piper,” Artemis replied sarcastically._ _

__“Yeah, thanks Piper. Totally didn’t see the scary metal teleporter just outside,” Deacon responded as well, following the two of them back inside the mess hall. “Why, just... Why?” He then asked Glory, who was sipping on a mug of coffee, a sweet roll in front of her on a plate._ _

__“Moral support. Better than just you, anyways,” Glory rose one of her eyebrows at Deacon._ _

__“I’m plenty supportive. Like a good mattress,” Deacon took a seat next to Drummer Boy as Glory rolled her eyes._ _

__“Sure, next time someone has a crick in their back I’ll just recommend they lie down on you,” Drummer Boy joked before holding up the coffee pot before him, offering some to Artemis. “Coffee, Wanderer? Courtesy of your friends at Ticon.”_ _

__Artemis thought a moment, chewing on her bottom lip before declining. “Nah, the less molecules I have the better... probably.”_ _

__“That matters?” Piper asked, “The less molecules you have the less chance of you getting severed or misplaced--?”_ _

__“Hey, no questions,” Glory told the reporter forcefully._ _

__“Yeah, that’s enough of that, Piper,” Nick grabbed a hold of her shoulders and led her to the chair next to Deacon, who was struggling to keep up his facade. “Besides,” Nick continued, “I need you to do me a favor once you’re in. Remember the looks on the faces of those Institute goons.”_ _

__“Given this teleport hijacker actually works of course,” Piper added before watching Artemis’ smile fall off her face. “Which it will, I’m sure,” she added quickly._ _

__“Thanks Piper, we really needed that,” Deacon said through a tight jaw, looking to Glory._ _

__“She’s Wanderer’s friend,” Glory took a bite out of her sweet roll, elbows leaning on the table._ _

__“They coulda brought MacCready,” Artemis added and Deacon looked even more agitated._ _

__“Yeah he would’ve _loved_ this,” Deacon said with heavy sarcasm before focusing on the doorway behind Artemis._ _

__“It would be best to not have more of your high profile friends pay our safe houses anymore visits,” Dr. Carrington’s voice sounded and Artemis turned around, watching him and Desdemona walk in._ _

__“This was us, not her,” Drummer Boy confessed but Carrington didn’t look any less upset._ _

__“Tom’s ready for you, Wanderer,” Desdemona followed the doctor in and Artemis felt her stomach sink._ _

__“Okay,” was all she could manage in a response. Piper was out of her chair and next to her in a second, holding onto Artemis’ shaking hand. Desdemona lead the way back outside, Artemis and Piper following first with Deacon behind them, before Nick followed with a drag of his cigarette. Glory quickly finished off her sweet roll and Drummer Boy downed his coffee before they followed as well, with Dr. Carrington being the last out of the mess hall._ _

__“Remind me again why you’re doing this?” Piper asked, leaning into Artemis slightly._ _

__“Uh, Shaun?” Artemis asked, like it may not have been a good enough reason. It probably wasn’t._ _

__“Right,” Piper nodded before hugging Artemis again, looking nervous._ _

__“Thanks for coming,” Artemis let her friend go before turning and hugging Nick quickly before he could protest. “Thanks Nick,” she said, feeling him jerk slightly before patting her back instead if hugging her in return._ _

__“You’ve got this, kid,” Valentine took the finishing drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the dirt and snuffing it out with the sole of his shoe._ _

__“Most qualified out of all of us,” Drummer Boy smiled at her._ _

__“Only because there’s no way in Hell were getting Glory on that thing,” Artemis hugged him as well before Glory grabbed her away and hugged her as well._ _

__“Damn straight. No way I’m going back unless it’s to kill everyone there,” Glory let Artemis out of her tight grasp._ _

__“Soon,” Artemis smiled at Glory’s obvious blood lust and didn’t blame her. Traveling with her for those few weeks lead to some heart-to-hearts and some terrifying stories._ _

__Finally, Artemis turned to Deacon and she didn’t know how to react. Should she hug him? Should she shake his hand? Should she just shrug and walk away? The panic she started to feel was mirrored, both by Deacon’s body and in his sunglasses as everyone just stood and stared at them._ _

__Quickly, Deacon reacted for them and grabbed onto her, pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her. Artemis stood on her tiptoes so she could rest her lips on the side of his neck discreetly. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to turn around and run back into the cabin so Deacon could laugh and go “Ha! Good joke, that’s not a teleporter, it’s our new espresso machine! It makes killer macchiatos,” and Artemis could feel relief flood her and everything could be alright again._ _

__“Hey, happy anniversary by the way,” she heard instead, Deacon’s mumbling against her dark hair._ _

__“What?” Artemis reluctantly let go of Deacon, confusion melting off of her face with a frown. She checked her Pipboy and saw that it was March first, 2288. “Oh.”_ _

__“I didn’t know if you just didn’t say anything or if you forgot... And I didn’t want you to forget,” Deacon explained quietly, kicking at the dirt with his ratty sneakers while he rubbed at the back of his head._ _

__“Thank you,” she looked back up to his face. She honestly had forgotten but... Why would Deacon tell her that? Like she was still married to Nate... “Keep an eye on these three, Dr. Carrington,” Artemis snapped out of the strange feeling as Desdemona walked towards her. Artemis pointed at Drummer Boy, Glory, and Deacon before following Des._ _

__“As if I don’t already. Stay safe,” Carrington answered as Artemis turned her back and made way for the teleporter._ _

__“Here,” Desdemona walked with her up to the teleporter. “Take this holotape. You’ll need it to contact Patriot, our ally on the inside.” Artemis took the orange and white tape. “You jack that holotape into any terminal and Patriot will make contact. He has to.”_ _

__“I’ll get it done,” Artemis hid the holotape in her Pipboy before turning and slowly stepping up onto the platform of the teleporter._ _

__“So stand still. Gotta lock in all those molecules of yours,” Tom was banging away on a keyboard and wasn’t even looking at Artemis as she stood on the terrifying machine. “Hopefully we won’t miss any... There’s only, you know, sixty trillion of them...”_ _

__“Oh Jesus,” Artemis mumbled and ran a hand over her face._ _

__“All right! Feeding our baby some juice!” Tom shouted over the crackling electricity. He honestly looked like the only person present that was enjoying himself. “Let’s see what she’s got!” The platform shook suddenly and Artemis nearly fell over, one of the hoses that were taped together coming undone and wildly spraying steam into the cold morning air._ _

__“Tom!” Artemis shouted, half a second away from jumping off the platform and running back to the safety of Deacon’s arms._ _

__“Tom, what the Hell?” Glory shouted at him._ _

__“D-don’t worry! All part of the plan,” Tom falsely reassured everyone._ _

__“Do whatever you can to gain their trust!” Des tried to take Artemis’ attention away from the deathtrap she was standing in. “Lie, tell them what they want to hear! Make up a cover story and _sell it_!”_ _

__“C’mon! I think I got it, establishing lock on the Institute signal!” Tom added._ _

__“Just get all the information you can! About Synths! About the Institute’s plans!” Desdemona was slowly losing her calm as well. “Find their weaknesses! If we can disable or destroy the Institute, we may have to do it!”_ _

__“You’re okay, kid!” Valentine shouted to her and Artemis took in a deep breath, trying to keep her knees from giving out. She looked to him and Piper, who gave her a nervous smile and a thumbs up, and then to Glory and Drummer Boy who both looked worried but oddly proud._ _

__“Got the RF! We got it!” Tom laughed as Artemis’ blue eyes fell to Deacon, who was rigid and frowning. It was his best attempt at staying carefree and Artemis saw that._ _

__“Find a way to save them, nobody else can!” Desdemona’s words were falling on deaf ears as Artemis stared at Deacon, and he started back. She watched him open his mouth like he was going to say something before Artemis’ vision went white and she felt the electricity around her fill her body and pull her apart, the last thing she heard being a loud boom._ _

__

__The explosion nearly knocked Deacon’s sunglasses off of his face as he fell backwards._ _

__“Blue! Oh my God, BLUE!” He could hear Piper’s screaming like a dull buzz over the ringing in his ears, and he scrambled to sit up and see what had happened. Behind his sunglasses, Deacon’s eyes went wide as he saw the fire and smoke engulfing the teleporter where Artemis had stood just seconds prior._ _

__“No,” he gasped, frozen in place as everything else moved around him. This... This was Barbara all over again. “No,” he repeated. It should have been him standing on that platform. It should have been him who met that fiery death. It should have been him strung up by his wrists with his gut sliced open and his intestines falling into the dirt. “No, no, no!”_ _

__He was reliving that moment he spent in Hell, watching Barbara’s face go pale, her mouth wide from screaming his name as her neck went slack. Only this time it was Artemis. “Not again, not again, _Tom what did you do_?!” Deacon scrambled to his feet, consumed in that same rage he felt decades ago. He wanted his hands around Tinker Tom’s neck, he wanted to strangle the life out of him for causing this Hell _again_._ _

__“Deacon, chill!” Drummer Boy grabbed onto Deacon’s arms and held him back._ _

__“You killed her!” Deacon struggled and Glory slapped her hand over his mouth, helping Drummer Boy keep him still._ _

__“Shut up!” She scolded him._ _

__“She made it out, I saw it,” Dr. Carrington said over the chaos surrounding Deacon._ _

__“Trust me, she was gone before the explosion,” Nick concurred, holding onto Piper’s shoulders who was on her knees in shock. “My processing speed’s a helluva lot faster than yours,” he looked from Piper to Deacon, who was finally starting to calm down, despite a sharp pain spreading in his chest._ _

__“She’s fine, Wanderer’s okay,” Drummer Boy reassured Deacon as he went limp and ended up sitting back on the ground._ _

__“She made it,” Desdemona said from near Tinker Tom, who was still in a daze from his teleporter nearly killing Artemis. “She’s in.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise i've been writing more of this, just not in order. I've been changing up some stuff also and, because the later chapters were getting out of hand this will end up being longer than I anticipated. I'm hoping to update with Chapter Eight again soon.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis meets a new ally in the Institute, this new Ally helps Artemis communicate with the Railroad.

“Deacon?” Desdemona’s voice called up the spiral steps leading up the church’s steeple. In response, he only exhaled cigarette smoke into the cold, damp air around him, his sigh drowned out by the constant droll of rain hitting the roof of the church. “Deacon?” She said again as she came into view, holding a lantern to light the old staircase.

“Hey boss,” he answered her finally, his voice cracking and the sound made him shudder. He was in this _bad_.

“I thought you hated heights?” Des mused as she placed the lantern down and leaned up against the opposite post from Deacon under the steeple. Deacon drew a breath in, not quite wanting to admit to that fault, or state the true reason he was up there. “Wanderer must not have minded much,” she added on her own after a moment of Deacon’s silence.

 _Hit the nail on the head with that, Des. Shit. Rain and heights were her thing._ “She’d run off and set up hundreds of Tom’s MILAs if she could,” Deacon admitted as he thought of all the rickety makeshift bridges, unsteady scaffolding, and general sense of shitting his pants when Tom had Artemis setting the damned things up.

“You know,” Desdemona started with a smile, “She’s the best thing to happen to us since losing the Switchboard. You brought her to us at the perfect time.”

“She came by herself. Well, kinda. Piper was with her, remember?” Deacon tried to sound nonchalant, like his usual self, but instead his voice was filled with pain, dread, fatigue...

“You know what I mean,” Des shook her head, “‘Project Wanderer’.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Deacon said flatly, unable to sound as forceful as he wanted. The cigarette he was holding onto had burned down to the filter so he tossed it off the steeple and made for his way back into the church.

“Deacon,” Des stepped in his way, trapping him. “Maybe we can talk about you abandoning us?” She crossed her arms over her vest and Deacon leaned back on his post, kicking his brain into bullshit mode.

“Ticon needed help with some things and--”

“When you left us to Pinky,” Des clarified and successfully shocked Deacon. He definitely hadn’t expected that.

“That... That was over a decade ago. The asshat threw me out, I didn’t--” Deacon tried to defend himself.

“Argue or try to come back?” Des finished the sentence for him and it was nothing like what he had intended. “You just left us. It got so bad after that, we lost more people, most just disappeared or abandoned us. There was always arguing...”

“The day he stepped down I came back,” Deacon pointed out, trying not to react so negatively to Des’ scolding.

“No” she shook her head. “You didn’t come back until Wanderer. But what I don’t understand is how you could have been chasing her around when she was what, ten years old?”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about Wanderer,” Deacon responded.

“I do. I want to know why she is so special. Why does she hold all of your attention?” Des made sure she was blocking the stairway so Deacon couldn’t shove past. “Why is this breaking you?”

Silence was the best course of action suddenly and Deacon kept his jaw clenched, shaking his head.

“Deacon, I need you. Everyone downstairs has their plates overflowing and you’re just sitting there with nothing on yours because you have your head wrapped around some little girl you found a decade ago--”

“Shut up, that’s fucking disgusting and you know me better than that. She’s pre-war. She was frozen by Vault Tec... What?” Deacon snapped, furiously telling her off before realizing Des was smiling at him. “Des? What?” He asked her, annoyed as she began to laugh.

“Thank you,” she sighed, keeping her smile. “That has to be the truth, right? I’ve never seen you explain yourself so furiously before.”

“Goddamnit, Des,” Deacon sighed, rubbing his hand over his shaved head.

“I think I understand why the ‘no relationship’ rule was in place before I became Alpha,” Des continued on despite what she assumed was Deacon glaring at her behind his shades.

“You kept all of Pinky’s rules in place,” Deacon pointed out.

“Everyone assumed I did. But Glory and Drummer Boy have had their thing for a few years now and I haven’t said anything,” Desdemona shrugged before stepping back and leaning against her post once more, freeing up Deacon’s escape route. Instead he just started back at her in confusion.

“Glory and Drummer Boy aren’t--”

“Maybe you should ask them for pointers,” Des cut him off, trying not to look smug from how many times she had bested Deacon in their conversation. Twice was definitely something for the record books.

“No, I don’t believe it,” Deacon thought for a moment, leaning on his post as well.

“Because they don’t disappear on each other for weeks or because they aren’t glued to each other when they’re around HQ?” Desdemona rose one of her eyebrows. “Maybe you really should ask them for pointers... Look, I want to help you, but I don’t know what to do besides tell you to wait like everyone else is,” her smile finally faded. “Besides, we’ve already heard from Wanderer and Patriot. That’s why I came to get you.”

“What?” Deacon asked and was already headed down the staircase.

“They started sending in messages about ten minutes ago, Wanderer says ‘Hi’,” Desdemona followed behind him, holding her lantern.

 

There was a terminal in her room she could have used but she was to paranoid to even turn it on. Instead, around two in the morning, Artemis had gotten dressed into some of the clothes provided to her and dared to venture out of the quarters that Shaun had given her. She half expected to have someone stationed outside her door, or worse, a Courser to tail her everywhere she went. Artemis was shocked to find the hallway deserted, however. She walked softly down the hall, hearing the heels she was struggling to walk in click against the floor as she moved.

She kept her eyes moving as she made her way down the spiral ramp to the main floor of the Institute, looking for any sign of someone tailing her or wanting her back in her room. Instead, the only people she saw were older Gen 1 Synths who were simply cleaning and acting as if she didn’t exist.

Artemis was too worried to travel too far, however she was able to find a terminal in a storage room, hidden from view of the doorway by shelving. Artemis quickly took the tape that Desdemona had given her out of her Pipboy, where she had hidden it, and pushed it into the terminal. The screen blinked and Artemis had two seconds to worry before it came back on with the messages scrolling across the screen, “Initializing $TTomKey... Symmetric key found... Handshake successful. Command?”

“Really Tom?” Artemis smiled to herself and read Tinker Tom’s directions, his voice sounding in her head as if he were next to her.

“You’re going into the belly of the beast, friend,” Tom had finished off, “don’t trust anything.”

Artemis already didn’t trust anything, especially to stick around much longer so she sent the “gift wrapped” message and ejected the holotape, hiding it once more in her Pipboy before fighting the urge to run back to her room.

Not four hours later, as she lay sleepless in her bed that felt too soft to be comfortable, she heard her personal terminal boot on by itself. It was enough of a shock for Artemis to quickly sit up and draw Deliverer, quickly scanning the room in the dark. When she was satisfied that she was still alone, Artemis got out of bed and set her pistol down next to the terminal, reading the screen.

“Downstairs. Turn left at the bottom. Advanced Systems store room. Twenty minutes. Patriot.”

Artemis reread the screen at least twenty times, and still wasn’t sure if she trusted what it said or not. Sure, this was part of the plan, but under the circumstances, it was really shady to her. Artemis could almost hear Deacon shouting “Nope!” over and over again.

In the end, she did the one thing she shouldn’t have and got dressed again in the same button down, knee-length dress and black heels. She managed to hide Deliverer in the dress’s waist tie and then threw on a white Institute lab coat to conceal the weapon. By the time twenty minutes rolled around, Artemis was already making her way to the main floor before heading left, as instructed. She easily found the store room and, with her hand around her pistol’s grip, she opened the sliding doors.

Inside, instead of a horde of synths or a courser waiting to apprehend her, was simply one of the Institute workers.

“Close the door,” he looked just as apprehensive as she was, and Artemis obeyed, stepping into the small room and shutting the door behind her. “So...” he looked her up and down, “You’re the one who sent the encrypted message...” he stated, looking shocked. “How did you even do that? I wasn’t sure anyone on the surface would be able to crack the encryption algorithm.”

“I have a friend on the surface who... Who are you?” Artemis began to explain before Deacon’s “Nope’s” returned to her mind.

“I’m Liam Binet. My father runs Synth Development. Your friend must have had some serious hardware to pull that off. Wow,” Liam appeared to relax and sat down on a crate. Artemis stayed standing in front of the door, still unable to relax herself.

“He’s good at what he does. So you’re Patriot?” Artemis asked, feeling slight disappointment under her paranoia. The guy looked barely older than her, blonde, blue eyes, just like some regular Institute egghead. “The Railroad really played you up to be someone great,” she noted.

“The Railroad? As in ‘ _The Railroad_ ’?” Liam asked her, shocked. “I wasn’t sure you guys existed. I kept sending Synths to the surface hoping someone would help them, but I never knew for certain...”

“Why are you helping Synths?” Artemis asked, folding her arms and shifting her weight uncomfortably in her heels.

“At first I just wanted to see if I could get away with it. It was a challenge, you know? The crazy idea of a sixteen year old. But then I started to realize that the Synths were just like us, except without any freedom. I decided to help the ones wanting to escape, so they had a chance at a better life.”

“Sixteen? A sixteen year old was able to smuggle a Synth out of the Institute?” Artemis rose an eyebrow behind her glasses.

“Its easy, just a bit of hacking. All the departments focus on science, why worry about terminal security?” He answered smugly, possibly misreading Artemis for being impressed.

“You’ve been ‘hacking’ Synths out of the Institute since you were a kid?” 

“Well... Yeah. For almost a decade now. I can show you how its done, actually,” Liam stood back up, ready to show Artemis whatever it was he did, but the look on her face stopped him. “I-if you want... I mean that's why you’re here, right?” Liam asked her, her look of blatant distrust making him recoil slightly.

“No, that’s not why I’m here,” Artemis told him, “I came here to find my son and then realized he’s in charge of this place. So if we just go running off helping Synths escape left and right it’s going to look too suspicious.”

“So we’ll have Father breathing down our necks for a while, huh?” Liam asked, and oddly looked excited. “It’ll be a challenge, but possible. If you don’t wanna see it done then will you at least meet with the Synth who helps organize this?”

“A Synth helps you?” Artemis asked.

“Yeah, really selfless dude. He orchestrates who I get out, pretty much. If you’re ever gonna help me, you should meet him, let him and the Synths know that you’re on our side,” Patriot looked hopeful as Artemis chewed on her bottom lip.

“Sure, okay,” she agreed ad Liam smiled at her.

“Perfect! Okay, he should be doing maintenance in the atrium this early, lets go.” Artemis opened the door and stepped out of the storeroom, before Liam took the lead and she followed. Liam’s pace was fast and excited and Artemis had trouble keeping up with the taller man as she sped walked after him in her pumps. She was completely aware of how obvious it was that she was following him, but nobody seemed to pay them much mind.

Liam led Artemis out into the atrium, the green from all the vegetation was still a shock to her. “Come sit down with me,” Liam beckoned her and walked up to a bench along a large planter that held oak trees. Artemis followed like she had been, trying not to let the spike heels of her shoes sink their way into the lush grass below her feet. Behind them was a single Synth doing landscaping work.

“Z1-14, it’s me,” Liam spoke with his back to the Synth and Artemis acted as if he were speaking to her, understanding the covert nature perfectly.

“Sir? Do you require something?” The Synth responded and Artemis turned to Liam. She could see the Synth out of the corner of her eye and noted that he didn’t look alarmed.

“It’s okay, Z1. She’s a friend. She’s with the Railroad,” Liam explained to him though he was facing Artemis. She smiled back in a relaxed, friendly manner.

“Meeting here is dangerous, and you brought a stranger?” Z1 questioned Liam, his tone changing. Artemis rose an eyebrow at Liam, feeling the same as the Synth. “Miss, how do I know we can trust you?”

“Do you remember a Synth that went by H2-22?” Artemis turned slightly so she had a better look at the Synth she was speaking to.

“Of course,” he responded and Artemis smiled, still feeling that sadness when his memory had been wiped.

“I helped get him to safety after you two got him out. He was really shy and timid, he’d never had coffee before or listened to music. And now he’s safe and he’s actually happy because he trusted me and my friends,” Artemis explained and Z1 temporarily stopped his work to look at her.

“Thank you,” he responded sincerely. “H2 deserves to be happy.”

“See?” Liam asked, “She’s safe.”

“If you insist we speak in the open, then let’s do so quickly,” Z1 returned to his work.

“I wanted you to meet her, and spread the word that Artemis is working with us. That Synths shouldn’t be scared of her. Can you tell them that?” Liam asked Z1.

“I’d appreciate that greatly,” Artemis added, facing forward in her seat again.

“I can. Having another ally in your position will surely be beneficial. Is there anything else?”

“Do you have any synths ready to relay out?” Liam added, and Artemis glanced at him, her blue eyes slightly narrowed.

“Might be in a week or less. I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you Z1,” Liam stood up and motioned for Artemis to follow him once more.

“I told you, helping a Synth escape so close to me arriving is dangerous,” Artemis whispered furiously to her new partner.

“You’ll be busy with Father when it happens, no one will suspect you, I promise.” I promise. Like she hadn’t heard that before. “Besides, now that I can actually communicate with the Railroad, things will be really simplified.”

“What?” Artemis asked, tripping over her heels. “Communicate with the Railroad? How?”

“That message you sent me, just said ‘Friend’ but with all the code that followed I was able to link my terminal with the Railroad’s,” Liam explained but Artemis’ shocked expression caught him off guard. “Didn’t you know?”

“I had no idea what was on that tape, it was given to me a minute before I relayed here,” Artemis confessed. “Can I talk to them? Let them know I made it in?”

“I need you to talk to them, are you kidding? I don’t want them to think I’ll double-cross them or something,” Liam explained and beckoned Artemis to follow him once more.

“I’m still not completely sure I trust you myself,” Artemis’ heels clicked after Liam as he led her to another section of the Institute that led to more living quarters.

“Trust is a two way street, you know? You already have enough dirt on me to get me exiled or killed. I’m not about to cross you,” Liam came to a stop at one of the doors before turning to look at her.

“I guess you’re right,” Artemis wished that she could feel some of her paranoia fall away but it didn’t.

“Good,” Liam smiled down at her. “Let me make sure my father’s not home, not quite sure how I’d explain becoming buddies with Father’s... Wait, what are you? His granddaughter?”

With that question Artemis was speechless. She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that her son was almost three times her age. “Uh, it’s... Uh... Complicated.”  
Liam shrugged and entered the quarters first, with Artemis waiting outside. “We’re clear, come on in,” Liam called from within one of the rooms and Artemis stepped inside quickly, closing the door behind her. She looked around the place, noticing how much larger it was, looking like it was meant for a family of three or four. She didn’t linger, however, and made her way into Liam’s room, again closing the door behind her.

“What should I say?” Liam asked without looking at her, his fingers speedily moving across the keyboard that was linked to three terminals, one to his left was constantly scrolling lines of random code, the one to his right responding to his key commands, and the one in the center reading “Initializing $TTomKey... Symmetric key found... Handshake successful. Enter Message...”

“Introduce yourself as Patriot and tell them that Wanderer got in safe,” Artemis explained, inviting herself to sit on Liam’s bed and kick off her shoes. She had been wearing them for thirty minutes and her feet were already killing her.

From the bed she could see the words quickly spelling out on the center screen, “Hey Railroad, it’s Patriot. Wanted to let you know Wanderer was relayed in safely.” Behind her glasses, Artemis rolled her blue eyes.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” She asked as the screen read “Trinity Message Encrypted... Symmetric key sent... Awaiting Handshake...”

“Well, we’re gonna wait for a response,” Liam swiveled around in his chair to face her.

“That could take a while. There’s one terminal in HQ and the owner has an erratic sleep schedule,” Artemis sighed, rubbing one of her feet with her hands. Before she had finished speaking, however, she saw the words “Handshake accepted” scroll across the screen.

“Guess not,” Liam smiled excitedly, waiting for the message to appear.

“HOLY SHIT,” showed up on the terminal a second later and Artemis laughed.

“That’s him, Tinker Tom,” she said, watching more requests for “handshakes” pop up.

As Liam accepted them, more messages began to appear, reading, “That’s insane! I thought for sure I killed her. There was only a 34% chance of her actually getting there alive. Is she in one piece? Still have all her molecules?”

Liam turned back to Artemis with wide eyes, “Thirty-four percent chance?”

Artemis was just as shocked as he was, too shocked to even be angry. “He didn’t tell me that when he had me standing on that metal platform of death,” she responded, her eyes just as wide.

“Want me to tell him off for you? Sounds like they sent you on a suicide mission,” Liam mused.

“It was, technically. Um, no... Ask him actually to tell Deacon I say hi.”

“Sure thing,” Liam turned back around, typing out, “Wanderer is in one piece, she’s asking you to tell Deacon hello,” he sent the message and they were waiting again. “So does everyone get secret code names? Wanderer, Tinker Tom, Deacon... What does he do, is he like the religious one or something?”

Artemis laughed out loud at that one. Deacon could have been a lot of things but she could never see him as a religious type. At most he was a hopeful agnostic. “He’s definitely not religious. There’s others too, Drummer Boy, Boxer and High Rise, and Glory, who’s a Synth. G5... G7 something, I think?”

“G7-81?” Liam asked, “She’s doing okay?”

“She’s better than okay, she’s HQ’s bad ass. She actually helped me take down the courser who’s chip got me here,” Artemis explained.

“G7-- I mean Glory... That should have been a guaranteed death for you both,” Liam eyed her, trying to figure out how the thin woman on his bed could have killed one of the walking murder machines the SRB had created.

“I’m tougher than I look,” Artemis smiled at Liam, more messages popping up on his terminal.

“Oh man, we have so many questions!” Tom started off on a rant, half of his questions flying over Artemis and Liam’s heads. He even threw in questions about finding Shaun and mentioned Dr. Carrington asking about her Anemia.

“Oh shit,” Liam cursed under his breath and Artemis looked up to the terminal screen quickly. “Deacon says Wanderer isn’t with you?” Liam read the message aloud. “What? Why?” He looked back to Artemis as panic struck. “If they don’t think this is legit they can lock me out, we won’t be able to talk.”

“Move,” Artemis jumped off of the bed and sat in the chair before the terminal as Liam got out of her way. “Tell the Contagious Robot Nanny to take a chill pill, I’m right here,” she typed as fast as she could before sending the message.

“The what?” Liam asked Artemis, who sat forward, eyes glued to the terminal screen. “Why aren’t they replying?” He asked after a minute of tense silence.

Artemis didn’t respond to him, she didn’t even blink until a new message finally popped up, reading , “Hey Beautiful.”

“Oh my God,” Artemis exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and tears immediately sprung to her eyes. She leaned back into the chair with her hands moving to press into her eyes, moving her glasses up to her forehead.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Liam sounded relieved as Artemis took a couple seconds to compose herself. When she opened her eyes once more and fixed her glasses, she saw an additional message.

“Did you find Shaun?”

“Um... You said you could get a Synth out within the week?” Artemis turned from the terminal to look up at Liam.

“Yeah, have something planned now?” He responded.

“Can we smuggle something out with them?”

“Of course, won’t change much depending on what they take with...” Liam responded and watched Artemis begin to type.

“I found Shaun,” she replied to the question in an oversimplified way. “I need to ask you a favor Deeks. Don’t have all the details yet but I need a package picked up that will have something for a friend. Glory can fill you in.” After sending the message she looked back to Liam. “Can you show me around Bioscience later, like without all the egg heads around? Tonight maybe?”

“Of course.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis and Liam fool the Institute, Artemis makes the hardest decision of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this one is heavier than what's in the previous eight chapters. It's also on the long side, as far as chapters go.

“You sure this won’t be missed?”

“Yeah, all of our literature is backed up on terminals anyways. Nobody reads books. It’s... Kinda weird,” Liam told her, handing the paperback book to her. It was in a terrible condition, the pages frayed and waterlogged, but it was at least ninety-five percent legible. 

“Reading a book is weird?” Artemis asked, raising a eyebrow behind her glasses.

“We read everything on terminals,” he shrugged at her.

“Reading everything on terminals is lame,” Artemis mocked him. She set the book on her desk, next to a holotape and a vial. She tore a piece of notebook paper into three pieces and wrote “Dez” on one and wrapped it around the holotape. She wrote “Glory” on another and wrapped it around the vial. Finally, she wrote “Deeks” on the third and slipped it into the tattered front cover of the book, The Scarlet Letter. After she folded the items securely in a towel and stuffed them into a bag, along with the written directions Liam had and some of the Institute’s food and water packets. Artemis buckled the straps to keep everything in place and turned around to hand it to Liam.

“I’ll get this to Z1, make sure you stay with Father until dinner,” Liam told her, watching as Artemis stepped into her heels and shrugged on a black cardigan over her blue dress. “I’ll meet you back here around ten and give you an update.”

“Be careful,” Artemis said, her voice near a warning tone instead of sounding well wishing.

“I will be,” Liam reassured her before leading the way out of her quarters. She followed him down the spiral staircase to the main floor of the Institute, but from there they parted ways with so little as a nod. As Liam made his way to Robotics, Artemis walked by herself to the Director’s Quarters.

“Shaun?” She called once she had reached the entrance. She had meant to knock, however the door opened the second her knuckles rapped against the plastic and thin metal of the door. She hadn’t even gotten the hang of even opening and closing the doors yet in the Institute.

She cleared her throat and pretended that she wanted to open the door instead of knock. “Shaun?” Artemis called out again. Stepping in, the door closed automatically behind her. Silence was the only response and she moved further into the room before _he_ appeared in the doorway, the replica of her son that she had been chasing this whole time.

“Father is upstairs, he’s been waiting for you,” the boy said, standing unnaturally straight in his jumpsuit. Artemis felt her stomach twist just from the sight of him. Never, _never_ , since learning about Synths had she been prejudiced, frightened, or even disgusted by them. She had always viewed them as human, the way Deacon and the Railroad treated them was easily adopted by her, and the thought that she was traveling with a synthetic human barely crossed her mind while she was with Glory. This boy however, sent Artemis’ skin crawling and had the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

“Ms. Artemis?” The false child asked. His tone was inquisitive, but his face was nearly blank.

“Right,” she swallowed, trying to compose herself. She watched the boy stand aside and she walked forward, wary of him following her through the doorway and up the stairs.

“Mother,” Artemis heard her real son’s aged voice as she carefully made her way up the steps, her hand gripping the rail tightly in case her heels slipped out from under her. “We’ve been waiting for you,” Shaun stood from the couch to greet her. There was a woman as well, if Artemis was remembering the color coded divisions of the Institute correctly, she was from Advanced Systems.

“S9-23,” the woman called for the false child behind Artemis and he walked briskly over to her.

“Dr. Li and I were going over S9-23’s emotions when you arrived,” Shaun grabbed onto Artemis’ hand and led her to the couch he was previously occupying. “I’m sure you remember his reactions when you first arrived.”

Artemis wasn’t sure how to verbally respond. Her first ten minutes in the Institute were traumatic, and the next ten were filled with heartbreak. The twelve years Deacon kept Artemis frozen didn’t even matter anymore.

“Give him an emotion now, he’ll show you,” Shaun continued, not letting Artemis formulate any kind of response while she stared at her sixty year old son. She tore her hazel blue eyes off of the hauntingly familial features of the Director’s face and back onto the Synth in the room.

“I don’t know, happy?” Artemis spewed quickly and instantly the boy’s face lit up with a genuine looking smile.

“Try something more complex,” Shaun told her and Artemis forced a quick though out of her head.

“Disdain,” she suggested and watched S9’s face twitch. It wasn’t an emotion she felt a normal ten year old would feel, at least knowingly, and Artemis glanced from him to Shaun.

“Close,” Shaun encouraged the false child and Artemis looked back to see the look of disgust suddenly on his face.

“That’s better,” Dr. Li glanced at the Synth from a tablet she had in her hands and quickly took some notes down. The Synth now looked less disgusted and more... Scornful as he glared at Artemis. Her stomach lurched at the sight before Shaun stopped him.

“Good,” he announced, “Excellent. Of course we still need to test and see if he can properly react to situations.”

“I’m confident he can react to certain stress factors better than he could a week prior. Before that he was living with Kellogg, remember?” Dr. Li spoke in a nonchalant tone, but Artemis caught the hint of venom behind her words.

Thankfully, the rest of their day didn’t consist of “testing” the child Synth’s emotional range and instead Father lead Artemis around to each division of the Institute himself, showing off his accomplishments as Director like any proud child would show their mother. Artemis paid close attention to the division heads, what each division did, and what all of it could mean for the Railroad. She figured that any gaps or anything she couldn’t remember correctly, she’d have Liam fill her in. Artemis wasn’t counting, however on seeing him much sooner than anticipated with Shaun, his last stop being the Robotics division.

Walking into the brightly lit laboratory, Artemis’ eyes immediately fell on Liam and she quickly looked away to her son as he led her on. Liam, however wasn’t so quick to distract himself and stood in shock for a moment.

“Finally, this is my good friend Alan Binet, head of Robotics,” Shaun said as they walked up to one of the scientists.

“Director,” Alan smiled, his face an aged version of Liam’s, “We weren’t expecting a visit today.”

“I’m showing my mother around the Institute,” Shaun informed him prompting an immediately hidden look of confusion from Alan.

“Yes, you must be Artemis, correct?” Alan asked, extending a hand for her to shake.

“I am,” Artemis smiled and shook the scientist’s hand. Her eyes left Alan for a moment, realizing that Liam was still staring at her and Shaun with his father.

“I was hoping we could show her how our Synths are manufactured,” Shaun stated and Artemis drew her attention back to him and Alan. With the statement her son made, Artemis felt her stomach twist, not sure what would be expected.

“Ah, the Magnum Opus of the Institute,” Alan smiled, “Of course. We’re already prepped.”

“Splendid,” Shaun smiled, a wide, toothy grin.

“Liam!” Alan called for his son then, who was _still_ staring. “Come meet my son, Artemis,” Alan then beckoned her after him.

She glanced to her own son, trying to look at least mildly interested instead of anxious or terrified, before following the doctor. She caught the tail end of a hushed conversation Alan was having with Liam, before the doctor turned to her with a smile, “Liam, this is Artemis, she’s--”

“We’ve met,” she butted in quickly, hoping to explain away why Liam had been staring so wide-eyed at her and Shaun.

“Oh, you have?” Alan looked from her to Liam.

“Uh huh... In uh... In the commissary,” Liam manged.

“Well...” Alan thankfully wrote off his son’s odd behavior. “The Director was wanting to show Ms. Wright how we manufacture our Synths.”

“Right, okay, I can do that, yeah,” Liam’s face was immediately overtaken by relief, “Come see,” Liam walked away from his father and Artemis quickly followed.

“What are you doing?” She whispered to him once he was standing near a large, shallow cylinder that was propped upright and slightly angled.

“I’m showing you--” Liam started, grabbing a tablet from the station and pressing a few of the buttons onscreen.

“You’re acting weird,” Artemis clarified quickly, making sure that she couldn’t be heard by either her son or Liam’s dad, “Stop it.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here, you’re supposed to be with Father--”

“I am with Father,” she interjected.

“In his quarters,” Liam continued before grabbing a hold of Artemis arm and moving her about three steps back from where she was standing. Two mechanical arms shot out from the ceiling then and, immediately, Artemis understood what the cylinder was for. The arms were moving almost too quickly for Artemis to process and in about fifteen seconds a fully formed skeleton was attached to mesh wiring spanning the cylinder.

“So... This is literally the skeleton of the Synth,” Liam started, glancing quickly over to his father and the director. “This is where we determine the gender and height and all that stuff...” he trailed off looking back to the shocked expression on Artemis’ face.

“It's so fast,” she managed to say to him, the two arms being replaced by a blinding light that appeared to be checking the bone placement.

“When it’s fully automated, it takes about two minutes, depending on a couple factors. Some Synths are made in about a minute forty five. The Gen two synths are put together in less than a minute,” Liam explained, noting the gradual horror building on Artemis’ face. She didn’t know what to expect, but she never would have guessed _this_. It felt like a terrible monstrosity, two minutes versus nine months in a womb plus eighteen years growing to adulthood.

“This next part is a little... Gross...” Liam tapped on another button on his tablet and the Synth’s skeleton was moved across the room to a second station. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Artemis tried to suddenly mask herself once more, forcing herself to look intrigued. Liam led her to the second station and she stood next to him with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“This is... Uh... Everything else pretty much. Muscle, cartilage, tendons, organs, arteries and veins, that stuff. The Synth component also, its injected... There, “ Liam pointed out while Artemis watched on, several needles on the robotic arms lacing tissue over the skeleton. She watched the Synth Component disappear into the Synth’s rib cage, just above their diaphragm.

“Why there?” Artemis’ question was no more than a whisper.

“Most protection from the abdominal muscles and rib cage. I don’t know if you’ve ever punched a Synth in the stomach before but you’d sooner break your hand-- I’m not speaking from experience,” Liam said quickly to the look Artemis was giving him.

“Sure,” she turned back to the Synth.

“There’s also not much room anywhere else, so...” Liam continued, pressing more buttons and the light cam back to observe the Synth once more. “Next station is all the body fluids and DNA,” he explained and the pair followed the Synth to the next station.

“Here,” Liam passed the tablet off to Artemis.

“What do I do with this?” She asked, looking from the transparent screen to Liam.

“Finish her off, eye color, hair color, skin, freckles... So my dad doesn’t make us go through another one,” Liam shrugged and Artemis looked back to the tablet. She felt sick, like she might vomit or faint, and watched her hands begin to shake as she quickly chose random settings. She was afraid of making the Synth look too much like someone she knew and the thought of her playing God made her feel absolutely _filthy_.

“Here,” Artemis quickly handed the tablet back to Liam. Silently, he accepted it and the robotic arms began their work, filling the Synth’s body with everything Liam had described, while simultaneously electrocuting it.

Artemis and Liam’s backs were to Shaun and Alan now and she took the moment to close her eyes, not wanting to watch the Synth she helped create come to life, only to turn into a slave for the Institute. She felt Liam move her aside and Artemis opened her blue eyes again, only to watch the cylinder get submerged into a pool of red, viscous, liquid in the center of the room.

“That’s it,” Liam left the tablet at the third station before leading Artemis around the pool to her son and his father.

“Well done,” Alan Binet stated as the Synth sat up in the pool and he stepped forward, reaching down to grab her out. Liam had left briefly to grab for a towel and a jumpsuit for the Synth, who was having trouble standing on her own and was clinging onto Dr. Binet. “Welcome to the Institute,” he greeted her.

“She’s beautiful, you two did a good job,” Shaun complimented his mother and Liam, who had quickly returned and was trying to dress the frightened Synth with help form his father.

Artemis felt a tear fall down her cheek and she realized she wasn’t keeping her emotions in check as well as she had thought.

“You must remember, mother,” Shaun placed a hand over her shoulder as she quickly composed herself, “It’s only a Synth, they aren’t truly alive.”

She looked to her son then, keeping her face calm. Though she never thought that she would have been a parent for physical punishment, Artemis realized that in the week since knowing Shaun she had never wanted to smack him harder.

 

Artemis had almost lost count of how many days it had been. It had to have been close to three weeks since she was relayed into the Institute. Liam and her had already sent two synths to the surface, the first with Virgil’s precious serum, Deacon’s book, and the holotape for Desdemona. The second left with about a half-dozen more holotapes with copies of whatever documents and messages Artemis could get a hold of, mostly from the SRB. This was accomplished all while playing the Institute perfectly, including her own son. She had forced herself to get used to Shaun’s face, a near replica of Nate’s despite having her eyes and hair color and being much older.

Around the time Shaun’s voice stopped giving her chills was about the same time she felt comfortable in the Institute. Everybody knew her by now, and every human understood that she was Shaun’s mother. Every Synth, however, saw her as their savior.

Then, there was Shaun, Father himself, as well as Liam’s father Alan Binet. They saw both Artemis and Liam spending an ungodly amount of hours with each other. Oddly enough, they were both overjoyed with it and mistook their actions as a budding romance instead of a covert operation to smuggle Synths out of the Institute. At least, that’s what Artemis and Liam figured, since Father had no other reason to have a private dinner with Artemis and the Binet family.

Gently, Artemis felt a hand fall onto her knee. She looked up quickly from her plate, something that resembled pasta and alfredo sauce. What was it, Supplement 34? Supplement 12?

“So you’re proposing that the newly manufactured gen three Synths are dreaming?” Shaun asked from Artemis’ right, seated at the head of the table. To her left was Liam, and across from them Alan and his “Personal” Synth, Eve.

“What would Synths even dream about?” Artemis butted in quickly, realizing with the help of Liam that she had been absent from the conversation at the dinner table.

“What anyone else would dream about, I suppose,” Alan answered her, “Their daily lives.”

“But wouldn’t that require... Um...” Artemis struggled. She was trying not to seem like she hated what she was suggesting. She was sure Synths could dream. She had heard Glory mumbling in her sleep before, at least she was ninety percent sure she was asleep.

“Consciousness,” Shaun finished her sentence.

“Right!” Artemis nodded, “That would require consciousness, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Alan nodded.

“I suggest that it may be a malfunction of their motor skills. We had to introduce an artificial circadian rhythm into the gen three Synths to keep their biological matter from deteriorating,” Shaun suggested to Doctor Binet. “It could be... Muscle memory perhaps?”

Alan nodded before Artemis continued. “Or maybe comparing synths to us and our sleep is a mistake? Is it possible that they’re... I dunno, booting? Downloading hardware?” Artemis laughed at herself, trying to sound nervous. Instead she felt her gut twist, disgusted with herself. “Look at me, acting like I have any idea about biology or robotics. I went to law school,” she grabbed for her wine glass with a roll of her eyes and took a large drink.

“Well I’m sure you could out talk anyone at this table then, Ms. Wright,” Alan rose his own wine glass to her with a smile, not obviously offended. The name however, Wright... It didn’t feel like her’s anymore. Nobody called her by it, she was only Artemis or Wanderer now. The name Wright was as dead as her husband, who Shaun constantly reminded her of.

“We couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough,” Artemis had mumbled to Liam, nearly half an hour later, walking alone to her quarters with their hands entwined. 

“You were convincing enough,” Liam shrugged. “Dad won’t complain, at least not to anyone but me.”

“I’m sorry,” Artemis looked up to Liam next to her as they began climbing the spiral staircase leading up to her quarters.

“You wanna know what I keep thinking about?”

“What are you thinking about?” Artemis asked him, the smile staying on her lips.

“So if this was real,” Artemis felt Liam’s hand squeeze hers gently, implying that he meant their relationship, “What would my dad be to your son?”

“Well,” Artemis laughed. “You’d be his step father, so your dad would be his step grandfather, right?” Artemis confirmed.

“That’s... So weird,” Liam laughed with her after a moment thought. “My dads like half of your son’s age.”

“Really?” Artemis rose an eyebrow, “ _I’m twenty-three_.”

“Well technically, you aren’t,” Liam teased her, stopping at Artemis’ door, and she let go of his hand to stand in front of him and cross her arms.

“Don’t you even, you brat,” Artemis playfully scolded before their laughter mixed and bounced off the hallway walls.

“Hey, would you...” Liam said as he caught his breath.

“Would I?” Artemis asked, trying to compose herself as well.

“Would you totally freak out if I kissed you right now?”

 _What?_ Artemis couldn’t even ask, she was shocked. The smile on her face faltered slightly, making her look more confused than repulsed, but then again,would she freak out?

Liam didn’t give her much time to force out a response before he had leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. Artemis’ eyes went wide for a moment, her shoulders tense  
and her hands drawn back. A sudden feeling of awkwardness overcame her and she snapped her eyes shut before placing her hands on Liam’s chest and shoulder in a slightly jerky motion. The kiss itself, besides being way too gentle, left Artemis wondering if Liam was a virgin. Besides that point, she found herself actually kissing him back, pressing into him with her hands holding onto him tightly.

“Sorry,” Liam spoke suddenly, pulling back a moment later and Artemis took her hands off of him, one of them covering her mouth as she felt her awkwardness continue to grow. “Must have been the wine, I’m not big on alcohol-” He rubbed the back of his neck, not looking at her.

“No, um,” she mumbled into her hand, staring at the ground and wondering how to explain Deacon to Liam. “I’m...” she shrugged and looked back to Liam’s face, “I’m fucking someone.” Was that it? Were her and Deacon only “fucking”? She couldn’t even bring herself to feel guilty for kissing Liam back, then again four months out of the vault she was already having sex with Deacon and her dead husband was less than a thought in her head. She didn’t even remember her own wedding anniversary. Where was the guilt then?

“You’re...? Oh o-okay,” Liam swallowed like his words were getting caught in his throat.

“Oh thank God,” they both heard a voice and their heads snapped to the opposite end of the hall, their eyes laid on Z1-14. “I need you both, something terrible has happened.”  
Artemis felt her stomach fall to the floor, all of her thoughts dissipating with Z1’s concern. “What happened?” Her voice was shrill and full of alarm.

“The SRB has located one of our freed Synths that was staying in a Railroad safe house. They were brought back and decommissioned,” Z1 walked towards them, and somehow Artemis knew that wasn’t the bulk of the bad news he had. “They’ve captured an agent as well.”

 _Deacon_. “Where?” Artemis asked and was already making her way back down the hallway, following Z1.

“Artemis, wait, this can’t be a good idea, we should at least wait...” Liam tried to talk her out of following Z1, however they were already half way down the spiral staircase. Liam had to run to catch up and grabbed for her hand again, holding it much less gently than before.

Z1 had led them through some of the old maintenance tunnels and to what looked like a makeshift torture chamber in an old medical wing. “We shouldn’t stay long, but we need to know what he’s said. We can’t have the SRB finding out about us,” Z1 informed and led them to a closed door, locked with a terminal.

“Hold on,” Liam finally let go of Artemis’ hand to hack into it and open the door.

 _Please don’t be Deacon, please don’t be Deacon, please don’t be Deacon,_ Artemis plead and when the doors slid open she wanted to scream.

Strapped to a chair inside the room and unable to move, she found High Rise and couldn’t bring herself to feel relief, he already looked dead. “High Rise?” She called and quickly made her way into the room, Z1 turning on the lights. Artemis stopped like she had ran into a brick wall, her hand slapping over her mouth to keep the shocked gasp to herself.  
High Rise stirred in the chair, and opened his eye. The other looked to have been violently cut out of his head and left a festering mess of blood and bruises on the right side of his face.

“Wanderer?” High Rise’s voice was raspy and weak, like he had been screaming. Artemis’ eyes wandered down his body and saw that both his thumbs and index fingers had been cut from his hands, the three remaining fingers on his left hand were all missing their fingernails, and both of his ankles looked to be crudely broken. “You’re working for them now?” His broken voice snapped her eyes back up to his face.

She shook her head, her hand dropping from her mouth. “I’m under cover... What... What...?” She tried to ask, his face obscured by burning tears. She looked around the room then, finding Z1 next to her staring at his feet. Liam was in the corner of the room, leaning over a counter near a sink, with his hands gripping the edge with white knuckles.

“Do you want water?” She asked, moving over to Liam and looking for something to put water into from the sink. She found a glass beaker and rinsed it out before filling it up.

“Yes, please,” High Rise answered her politely. Artemis was caught by Liam’s hand, but he looked too afraid to look at anything but the counter top.

“Did you tell them anything?” Artemis asked, figuring that’s what Liam wanted her to ask.

“I tried not to, are you disappointed?” High Rise tried adjusting his position in the chair and ended up wincing in pain. Artemis brought the beaker up to his lips, holding her free hand under his chin like he was a child, like getting his shirt wet was the most of his worries.

“No, I’m a sucker for pain. I would have told them everything about everyone,” Artemis told him. She honestly wasn’t sure how she would react to... _This_.

“I told them about Old Man Stockton and the routs I ran with escaped Synths,” High Rise pulled back from the beaker and Artemis withdrew it. “I didn’t mention Bunker Hill but,” High Rise leaned his head back, closing his eye, “They said something about checking with their caravan contacts.”

“What about us?” Liam asked from across the room. “Do they know they have people on the inside?”

“No, I had no idea Wanderer even made it in,” High Rise sighed.

“What else did you say?” Artemis asked, realizing her hands were shaking as she held onto the beaker. “I have to let HQ know as soon as possible. Did you...?”

“I didn’t say anything about HQ. I tried to convince them Ticon was our main place, but they already knew it wasn’t.”

“Who’s they?” Artemis asked, looking to Z1 and Liam.

“SRB. The coursers,” Z1 answered her, “This is what they do.”

“Who else did they get?” High Rise asked next. “Is my sister here, do they have Boxer?”

“You’re the only one they brought back besides K1-98,” Z1 answered.

“Shit,” High Rise cursed.

“I’ll ask HQ to look for her?” Artemis suggested.

“She split, I don’t know what happened to her... You didn’t come to get me out of here, did you?” High Rise looked back at her with his single eye.  
Artemis looked to Z1 and Liam again, both of them were silent but she knew their silence meant “no”. “Guys,” Artemis plead.

“It’s too risky, we’d have to carry him out,” Z1 answered.

“We have to,” Artemis stressed, walking back over to Liam. “Liam, please-”

“I could do it if I had a few days, if he had a few days,” Liam looked to her, genuine remorse showing on his face.

“You have to kill me then.” High Rise couldn’t turn his head enough to see Artemis and Liam.

“What?” She turned around and Liam had to grab onto the beaker she was holding so it wouldn’t drop and shatter.

“Please don’t leave me to them, I can’t do this much longer,” High Rise reasoned with her and she walked back into his view, standing next to Z1.

“It would be most humane and the safest for the Railroad,” Z1 agreed and Artemis turned to stare at the Synth with her blue eyes crying and wide with disbelief.

“No,” she said stubbornly, looking back to High Rise. “No, we aren’t killing you, we can get you back to the surface--”

“I can’t survive up there, look at me. I can’t hold a gun, I can’t run, I can’t even see,” High Rise told her. “The coursers did this deliberately. They were never going to let me go. I can’t last a few more days of this.”

Artemis’ hands were balled into fists in her hair, feeling weak and sick and helpless. “I can’t,” she choked, backing up until her back hit the wall and she used it to keep herself standing, her knees too week to keep her upright.

“If we kill him it has to be discreet. The SRB would know they have a traitor in the Institute and neither you nor Liam would be safe,” Z1 spoke up, still standing in that same spot and watching Artemis fall apart.

“Smothering would be your best bet. Poison could be messy and guns and knives are out of the question,” High Rise suggested.

“This isn’t happening,” Artemis mumbled to herself and shut her eyes tightly. “No, this isn’t happening.”

“Oh God, I’m gonna throw up,” Liam moaned from his own corner of the room, losing himself to this hellish situation as well.

“Come out of the room with me, Liam,” Z1 beckoned him. “I’ll find something to use for you, friend,” he turned to High Rise then. 

“Thank you,” High Rise sighed. Liam bolted out of the room after Z1 and Artemis was left alone with High Rise. “Can I ask you something, Wanderer?” He asked from his chair and Artemis forced herself to respond, willing herself to open her eyes and look at him.

“My name is Artemis,” she said. “You can call me Artemis.”

The corners of High Rise’s mouth twitched, resembling a morbid smile. “Like the goddess?”

“Yeah,” she answered shakily, letting her hands fall from her hair and instead she held her arms tightly over her chest.

“Is there something going on between you and Deacon?” He asked.

Instead of playing dumb, or avoiding the question, she answered straight forward. “I think there is. You almost caught us that one time when I came by with Glory, and you were trying to wake Deacon up.”

“I knew it, that bastard,” High Rise made a noise that sounded like a laugh laced with a pained groan. “Don’t let him dance around that. Give him an ultimatum, you either are or aren’t in a relationship, understand?”

Artemis nodded, “Okay.”

“How did you meet? Did he find you too?” High Rise asked, keeping up their conversation, the last one he would ever have.

“He rescued me out of a vault. I was in cryo sleep. And to save you your breath, yes I was born before the Great War.”

“Shit,” High Rise looked as shocked as possible in his position. “No wonder. He loves everything pre-war.”

Z1 re-entered the room then, holding a thick plastic bag in one of his hands. “I’ve found this,” he showed Artemis and she began to cry again. “I’d do this but I’m afraid I won’t be able to, ma’am.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” High Rise tried to comfort her. It was morbid, it should be the other way around. It shouldn’t be happening at all.

“I’ll stand watch outside so I can warn you if any coursers come back,” Z1 offered Artemis the bag and slowly, she took it.

“You’re gonna want to tie it tight around my neck, and hold your hands over my nose and mouth,” High Rise explained and Artemis felt her insides liquefy, feeling sick like Liam.

As Z1 left the room, Artemis pushed off the wall and swayed on her feet like a drunk. “I’ll try not to but I’m going to struggle, you might want to get on top of me,” High Rise continued and Artemis looked from him to the bag and back again.

“You’ve done this before?” She ashed, her voice shrill and squeaky with fear.

“Call this karma. I was a piece of shit before Deacon recruited me and my sis,” High Rise explained, slowing his breathing down, possibly to hide his own fear and anticipation for the end.

“What about my karma?” Artemis asked him, trying to drag her feet forward but they felt anchored to the floor.

“It doesn’t work like that kiddo. Have Deacon get drunk one day and ask him to explain it to you. He’ll go on for an hour,” High Rise explained, watching her shuffle towards him.

“I’ll remember that,” Artemis nodded, biting her lip nervously, fidgeting with the bag in her hands. “I-I don’t know... I don’t know if I can...”

“It's okay,” High Rise nodded to her. “Put the bag on my head, put your hands over my mouth and nose, and wait five minutes. Make sure I’m gone and not unconscious before you take the bag off,” High Rise explained and Artemis nodded in understanding, but found it hard to breath herself.

“Artemis,” High Rise said to her, “Tell my sister that I’m sorry and I love her. And... Thank you for doing this.”

She nodded again, her tongue swollen in her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. She lifted one of her knees onto him, then the other and High Rise leaned forward so Artemis could wrap the bag over his head, tying it off around his neck. Her movements were mechanical, watching the bag slowly inflate and deflate as High Rise took his last breaths. “Okay,” she spoke to herself before leaning forward, using her weight to keep him still before forcing both of her hands over his nose and mouth.

Artemis closed her eyes immediately, willing her mind to be anywhere else and at first it settled on Deacon, when he was pleading with her not to come to the Institute. Then to both of them at Fairline Hills, the first time she had been able to listen to Deacon’s heartbeat. The sound seemed to drown out everything else around her for a few moments before her mind kept wandering. She thought of Glory and Drummer Boy, Desdemona and Carrington, Boxer, H2-22. She thought about the Memory Den and wandering through Kellogg's memories, briefly wondering if that mercenary ever had trouble killing someone. Then, she thought of Nate, when they first met and how he always came through her checkout line at the Super Duper Mart. She thought about her wedding and then having Shaun...

Artemis opened her eyes and her vision was blurry. Slowly, she released High Rise’s face and wiped the tears from her own. She had no idea how long she had been there, smothering him.

“H-High Rise?” She asked the silent room before untying the bag and trying to feel his neck for a pulse. She was afraid to take it off of his head, she was afraid to even look at him.

“Help...” her voice broke, blindly feeling High Rise’s throat. Her hands were shaking too bad to tell if he was still alive. “Help!” She called louder, the only word she could get out. “Help!” She called and tried to get off of High Rise but her legs were useless and she fell backwards, to the ground.  
Z1 came back into the room quickly and grabbed onto her. “Help,” she continued as the Synth tried to pull her to her feet and drag her out of the room.

“Hold onto her, Liam. I need to check and see if High Rise is gone,” he explained as Liam stood in the doorway, pale as a ghost. Artemis latched onto him, pressing her head into his chest so she could hear his erratic heartbeat.

“Holy shit...” he whispered, holding onto her just as tightly. He watched Z1 check High Rise’s neck and then wrist before taking the bag off of his head. Liam shut his eyes and dragged Artemis out of the doorway, feeling his stomach churn uneasily before Z1 came out of the room.

“It’s done. You two need to get out of here. I’ll take care of this,” he motioned to the bag.

“O-okay...” Liam stuttered, “Come on, we need to go,” he tried to get Artemis to walk with him.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” She asked quietly, unable to let go of him.

“Yeah,” he responded, walking slowly back with her, away from Z1 and the corpse of High Rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I wish I could tell you the next one is better but... I guess we'll have to wait and see.
> 
> Also, if anyone cares, I might post a oneshot of Artemis and Glory in the near future because I didn't put enough of her into this. Plus I couldn't find any fics that revolved solely around their friendship, nor could I find one where Deacon had dipped out and Sole is trying to cope. Please let me know if you've read any or if you've written something like that, I'd love to read it.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam is found out, Artemis and Liam escape the Institute.

Desdemona held her palms to her eyes. It was too early in the morning for news like this, what Wanderer had given her.

“B-boss?” Tinker Tom asked, “What’d she say?”

Desdemona kept her pose for a long moment, sighing before she looked back to the screen and blinked. The pressure from her hands left her vision slightly blurry. “Cross out Ticonderoga Safehouse.”

Dr. Carrington had been reading the terminal over her shoulder while Drummer Boy blatantly eavesdropped, leaning up against one of the pillars in the crypt and smoking a cigarette.

“Should we cross out Wanderer as well?” Carrington asked, straightening his back and crossing his arms, his tone as cold as ever. With that question Drummer Boy pushed off the pillar, including himself in the conversation.

“She’s dead?” He asked, looking between Carrington’s stony expression, Desdemona’s dark circles, and Tom’s wide eyes and slack mouth. If he had to guess, he would have guessed the answer to be “Yes”.

“We should wait for Deacon to get back. I don’t want a scene when he sees that line through her name,” Desdemona stood from her chair. “I want him to read what she wrote and then,” she pointed from Tinker Tom to the terminal. “Delete it all. Everything.”

Tom didn’t question why, he didn’t have time to before a loud “Carrington!” rang through the crypt.

“What now?” The doctor rolled his eyes before Glory appeared down the steps into HQ. The sight of blood on her hands and face changed his expression quickly.

“Glory?” Drummer Boy asked in alarm and made his way towards her with the doctor.

“Doc,” Glory said, glancing towards Drummer Boy. It was enough for him to know that it wasn’t her blood, that she was okay. “We need you,” Glory continued walking towards Dr. Carrington.

“What is it?” Carrington asked, all of HQ now awake and curious. All of their questions were answered when Deacon came through the door next, blood all over his shirt, hands, arms, and the woman he was carrying.

“Who is that?” Desdemona asked over the sudden chaos. Deacon nor Glory answered right away as they both followed Dr. Carrington to a stretcher near his medical supplies.

“Deacon,” Desdemona followed them. “Glory, what is going on?”

“Give me the vodka, and purified water,” Carrington commanded and both of the agents complied with him instead of Desdemona.

“Des, can we talk in a sec?” Deacon asked her, barely paying attention as Glory fetched what the doctor had asked for.

“Talk to me _now_ ,” Desdemona demanded. “Who is this?”

“Why do I have a feeling you already know about something?” Deacon asked her, holding a rag to a bloody wound on the side of the woman’s chest.

“Her name’s Boxer, she's an agent,” Glory answered Desdemona.

“From Ticonderoga Safehouse?” Des asked and noticed the glance shared between Glory and Deacon. “She’s from Ticon?!” Her voice rose.

“She gave the cosign,” Deacon winced at Desdemona’s question. He still wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

“She was coherent enough to tell you that her Geiger counter was in the shop?” Des looked to Carrington for help.

“If you two are making me save an Institute spy I’m shooting you both,” he continued to work without so much as a glance up at Desdemona, “Tom, I need something to cauterize her wounds with, something really hot.”

“On it, Doc,” Tom answered as Drummer Boy walked around the stretcher to squeeze Glory’s shoulder, the two of them silently acknowledging each other.

“Look, I’m sure this is just some huge misunderstanding. When Boxer’s stable, I’ll go check out Ticon and everything will be fine,” Deacon explained like he wasn’t keeping the woman from bleeding out.

Desdemona was fuming, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew Deacon would understand in a second, but she needed to break this to him without him causing a scene or leaving in the middle of the night. “I need you to read something Wanderer sent us. Drummer Boy, hold that for Deacon.”

“Here,” Deacon said as Drummer Boy held the rag against Boxer’s ribs. He then took off his blood soaked shirt and handed it to Drummer Boy to use instead, “It’s ruined anyways.”

“Clean yourself up,” Des said expecting Deacon to do just that. Instead Deacon followed her with another rag, wiping the blood off of his arms and chest. “I need to tell you that it's not good, what she sent,” Des warned him quietly as everyone around them began to work earlier than usual, not finding a way to get back to sleep.

“Why?” Deacon faltered, looking from her to the green text across the terminal’s screen.

“This is for Desdemona, make sure she see’s this first,” the message started off. “Shit’s hit the fan down here. The SRB found Safehouse Ticon, do not respond to any dead drops from them. As far as Patriot and I know, it’s completely unsalable.

“They reclaimed the last Synth we sent up. They brought an agent down as well, codename High Rise.”

Deacon stopped there, looking up to Desdemona. “Keep reading,” she urged him, watching Deacon sigh.

“They were torturing him and he gave them some information about where he’d runs Synths to and from, he told them about Old Man Stockton, and then he said something about the SRB having caravan informants. Bunker Hill might not be safe, it probably hasn’t been for a while now.

“That agent High Rise had a sister, codename Boxer. If anyone can get a hold of her, he wants his sister to know that he’s sorry and he loves her.”

“That’s his sister,” Deacon gestured to the agent on the stretcher. Glory and Drummer Boy were no longer helping Dr. Carrington and were speaking quietly among themselves. “The Institute’s never known about our countersigns, Des. It’s her.”

“I can break the news to her when she's awake,” Des offered and Deacon continued to read on, thinking she meant about High Rise being captured.

“Patriot and I couldn’t risk trying to send him back up. He wasn’t mobile so to keep him quiet I killed him.”

Deacon reread that sentence again. And then again. And once more. “Oh shit,” Deacon breathed, the irony of it cruelly stinging at his heart. High Rise had saved Artemis and now she had killed him.

“I did so as discreetly as possible but there’s always the possibility of the SRB knowing he was killed. Patriot and I can’t send anymore packages for a while because of this. We’ll do our best to let you know when one is coming, but neither of us can keep this software on our terminals. We can’t risk our position in the Institute and we can’t risk the SRB finding anymore Railroad Safe Houses or even HQ. Because of that, this is the last message we’ll be sending. I hope you understand.

“Stay safe and stay alert. And if you can, let Deacon know that I love him”

There was no period at the end, the statement was left open. To Deacon, beneath the shock, it felt as if she had deleted and re-written the statement multiple times. Or she possibly added it last second before hastily sending the message. Whichever was the case, one thing was blatantly clear. It was the first time Artemis had confessed such a thing, and she had no idea that Desdemona knew about them or that she was okay with it. Despite it being the first time, it cemented the urgency in Artemis’ words and it scared Deacon. For her to admit something that deep to Desdemona and whoever else read the message, she must have felt like she was in real mortal danger.

Deacon leaned forward, running his hands up his face and drawing in a shaking breath. His sunglasses pushed up to his forehead, askew, and he tossed them onto the desk. His fists were trying to keep the tears from falling out of his eyes and Desdemona watched as the muscles in his back and shoulder’s tensed. Deacon had lost Artemis _again_. Only this time he couldn’t check in with her, he wouldn’t hear from her. Deacon wouldn’t know if something went wrong with her covert operation I the Institute. She was gone, just like a whisper of smoke on the wind.

“Oh God,” he choked out and felt Desdemona’s hand fall onto his bare shoulder.

“I need you, Deacon,” she told him. “Take time to deal with this but I need you out there helping me. We’re blind again and we have a lot of covering up to do.”

 

Artemis bolted upright, fast enough to make her head spin. The loud gasp she gave was enough to startle Liam who had been sleeping soundly next to her.

“What?” He asked loudly, sitting up as well though still half asleep. He watched Artemis pant as she stared at the wall across from them, and reached out to her. “Another nightmare?” He asked, his voice at a much more acceptable level as held onto her.

Artemis looked to him then, her eyes wide and full of tears. She swallowed, trying to catch her breath before saying, “I’m fine.”

“It’s High Rise, isn’t it?” Liam asked her and didn’t receive a response, only a stray tear rolling down her cheek. “You should really talk to Dr. Volkert,” Liam suggested.

“No, I don’t need his help,” Artemis shook her head, looking back to the wall in front of them.

“He can at least give you something to help you sleep,” Liam leaned forward and kissed the back of her shoulder.

“I don’t need help,” Artemis sighed and turned around to look at Liam. “I got you anyways.”

Liam smiled at her, moving her black hair out of her face. Since arriving, her bangs had grown longer and constantly fell in her eyes, but for some reason Artemis had done nothing about the issue. “C’mon,” he beckoned and laid back down with her, his arms wrapped around her.

They were silent after, and Artemis kept her eyes closed, her nose touching Liam’s and her legs tangling in his. Being this close to another living human, one that knew her secrets, it was almost like...

But it wasn’t. Liam wasn’t Deacon. Liam was just a temporary security blanket and her real relief was on the surface somewhere doing God knows what. Artemis and Liam hadn’t had any contact with the Railroad since her last message to them.

She sighed heavily, moving her arm to wrap around Liam’s waist so she could pull herself closer to him.

“Do you wanna talk?” Liam whispered his question and Artemis kept her eyes closed.

“No,” she responded in an equally hushed voice. “I don’t wanna do anything,” she added before Liam could ask. It was a bit unfair, she would admit that, but Liam didn’t complain. They stayed silent and held in eachother's arms the rest of the night. Artemis was sure that Liam had fallen asleep first, and she hadn’t realized that she had fallen back asleep herself.

“Hey,” Artemis awoke for the second time, feeling Liam run his fingers across her shoulder. She could hear the Wakemaster alarm sounding off next to her bed.

“I hate that sound,” Artemis mumbled against his chest. Undoubtedly, however, she was in a much better mood than earlier in the night.

“I gotta do some work today before my dad fires me,” Liam told her and he stretched out to turn the alarm off before laying on his back, rubbing his eyes with his free hand before yawning.

“Your dad won’t fire you,” Artemis looked up to him, keeping her chin on his chest. “The whole Institute hasn’t been so productive lately. Not since Shaun collapsed last week.”

“You should at least get up and see him,” Liam told her.

Artemis was silent for a moment before sitting up and stretching. “Right,” she yawned herself before running her fingers through her messy black hair. “Are you gonna shower here?” She asked Liam as she got out of bed, making sure the tank top she slept in wasn’t exposing her back or torso, despite her only other piece of clothing being a pair of skimpy underwear. She looked back to Liam and saw him smiling at her.

“You already know my answer to that,” he said and got out of the bed himself, only wearing a pair of briefs.

“There’s no way two people can fit in those tiny showers,” Artemis rolled her eyes and found her glasses.

“There’s _totally_ room for two people to fit in those showers,” Liam tried to sleepily figure out which way his jumpsuit went, half of it was inside out.

“Have you seen it done before?” Artemis asked, crossing her arms as she leaned against her desk.

“Well, no but...” Liam shook his head before noticing the look Artemis was giving him. “When are you going to decide that you aren’t ‘fucking’ someone anymore? It’s been four months since you’ve talked to anyone up top,” he pointed out, shrugging the suit over his arms and shoulders before zipping it closed.

“This is a show, you know that,” Artemis sighed, looking down to her bare feet. Her toes had been painted bright red, like her fingernails, and she figured she would need another coat soon.

“Yeah but there’s a difference between out there and in here,” Liam shrugged. He had pushed the subject before, and he knew Artemis wouldn’t let it go anywhere, despite what they did behind closed doors. “Fine,” he said to her silence. “How about this, I do some work, you go see your son, and then we meet up back here around lunch for a nap.” Liam had stepped in front of her now, his hands settling on either side of her waist.

“If by ‘nap’ you mean sleep, then Hell yes,” Artemis answered him, looking up at his tired face and disheveled blonde hair

“Of course I mean sleep,” Liam laughed. “Five hours, ‘kay?”

“Deal,” Artemis nodded and he leaned down quickly to kiss her cheek, Artemis tilting her head slightly. “Good luck with your father,” Artemis bid him farewell and watched him leave.

As a typical morning routine she showered, brushed her teeth, blow dried her hair, and did her makeup, before getting dressed. Pre-war it would have been a normal morning. In 2278, however, it was unheard of on the surface. She doubted many scavvers and wastelanders even knew what a blow dryer was, despite how to use one.

It was a quick half hour before Artemis left her quarters, walking down the hallway without a problem in her heels, making her way first to the commissary to pick up breakfast for herself and her son, before heading up to his quarters.

“Shaun?” She called out, a tray in her hands with their breakfast and the Institute’s take on coffee. “Shaun? I brought some--” she said, wandering around the Director’s quarters. Artemis found him quickly, sitting at a table with Dr. Volkert.

“Oh. I didn’t know you’d have company,” Artemis said, standing awkwardly with the tray of food in her hands, seeing that Shaun and the doctor were just finishing their own breakfast. “I guess I should have woke up earlier...”

“It’s fine, mother. The boy hasn’t eaten yet,” Shaun pointed out as Artemis walked further into the room and saw the synth child copy of her son sitting quietly by himself on a couch, looking almost unsettling with how still he was.

“Oh,” was all she said, trying to avoid looking at the child synth. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Oh, no,” Dr. Volkert assured her, standing from the table. “Just stopping by for my daily check-up. I’ll leave you three alone,” he smiled and nodded politely at Artemis.

“Daily checkups?” Artemis turned to her son once the Doctor had shown himself out.

“It’s just a precaution, mother. I have the world’s best doctors at my disposal, why not utilize them?” Shaun waved her question off. “S9-23, come eat breakfast.” The child Synth stood quickly and walked over to the table, taking a seat next to Shaun. His movements mimicked those of the Gen1 synths, robotic and slightly awkward.

“What’s wrong with him?” Artemis asked, slowly taking a seat on the other side of Shaun as he placed the food Artemis had brought in front of the false boy.

“We’re in the middle of re-working his personality, to put it simply. The Gen4 brain is much more complex than a Gen3’s. The process usually takes a week, however he’s already in phase three,” Shaun explained, most of his simplified words flying over Artemis’ head.

“How many phases are there to ‘re-work’ him?” She asked, forcing herself to eat her breakfast while the child automatically shoveled food into his mouth.

“About twelve, depending on how smoothly Advanced Systems moves along.”

“Well... Wow,” Artemis was at a loss for words. Watching the boy eat so awkwardly, Artemis almost felt a pang of apology for him through her disgust.

“I was hoping that possibly you could help Dr. Li and her team today,” Shaun stated plainly, looking from the synth to Artemis.

“I don’t know anything about synths or personalities,” Artemis gingerly picked through her meal, trying to keep from looking back to S9-23. It was a lie for the most part. From what information she got to the surface and actually helping create a synth, not to mention Liam and his father Alan, Artemis had learned a great deal about synths.

“You would just be his stimulus. He is a simulation of a child after all, and a child needs to know how to interact with their parents.” Artemis slowly looked up from her food them to her son’s aged face. Sometimes it was still hard for her to believe that the elderly man was her son, even after the months she had spent underground with him. Even more impossible, was how much he looked like his father, even the child synth was a near copy of her late husband. In that moment she wondered how Nate would have reacted to all of this, the Institute, their son, the synths...

“Okay,” Artemis agreed with a small forced smile. “I can help out.”

 

“Liam?” Artemis called out, walking into her room much later than she had anticipated. It was almost four in the afternoon by the time Advanced systems and Dr. Li had what they needed between S9-23 and Artemis and she was _exhausted_.

She kicked off her heels before walking to the bedroom, expecting to find Liam asleep without her. Instead, she found the messy sheets abandoned. “Huh,” she said and wondered briefly if Liam had already come and left again.

It wasn’t much of a debate in her mind to shrug off her white lab coat, toss her glasses on her end table, and crawl into her bed alone. Whether Liam was there or not, she was hellbent on napping. Artemis didn’t even bother setting her alarm.

When she woke it was less than an hour later, to someone shaking her roughly awake.

“Artemis,” she faintly recognized Liam’s voice.

“Huh?” She groaned and tried to pull out of his grasp.

“Artemis, you need to wake up now,” he stressed, forcing her to roll over. When she finally opened her eyes to look at him and ask why he was being so pushy, she was met with someone in a full set of Synth armor and a white jumpsuit.

“It’s me!” Liam covered her mouth to silence her gasp before removing his helmet.

“What the _Hell_ , Liam?” Artemis responded, sitting up in her bed and smoothing out her hair.

“They know, they found out about me. The SRB knows that I’ve been smuggling Synths out,” Liam told her in a panicked rush.

“Hey, wait,” she said and got out of bed, grabbing onto his face to keep his attention focused on her. “This is some kind of misunderstanding, the SRB doesn’t know about you,” Artemis told him with a smile. “You’re overreacting.”

“No,” he took Artemis’ hands off of his face and sat down on her bed. “No, this is real. Dr. Ayo showed up with some coursers. They were hounding my father. They’re gonna search my room and they’re gonna find out what's been happening.” His explanation was given in one jumbled together mess of a breath.

“Liam,” Artemis grabbed onto his shoulders instead. “Calm down, I can barely understand you.”

“They’re going to kill me,” he stressed. Artemis couldn’t respond before there was a knock at her door. Both of them went silent and listened for a moment.

“H-hold on!” She called out while trying to process what Liam was saying. Liam silently protested, shaking his head and waving his arms at her as she grabbed her glasses before walking out towards her door. After adjusting her dress, she held a finger up to her lips, signaling for Liam to stay quiet.

“Hello?” She answered as the door slid open to reveal Z1-14. She poked her head out into the hallway to be sure he was alone before quickly pulling him into her room, all before he could say a single word to her.

“Z1, oh God, Z1 they know,” Liam stepped out of Artemis’ bedroom.

“I... I have to admit I’m surprised. I’m not sure what you mean,” Z1 looked between them both.

“Liam thinks that the SRB is out to get him,” Artemis crossed her arms. “You’re risking a lot to come here and tell me that. There’s probably some simpler explanation,” she glanced to Liam with the last statement.

“I... The SRB are on to you?” Z1 asked Liam and Artemis suddenly realized that he hadn’t come for that reason.

“Z1, why are you here?” Artemis asked, suddenly serious, before Liam could answer.

“The Brotherhood, they’ve found the Railroad’s headquarters,” he answered curtly.

“What?!” Liam’s voice rose with his panic, while Artemis was left speechless.

“The Institute has been monitoring the Brotherhood’s radio activity and they believe that two Railroad captives have revealed the location of Railroad Headquarters,” Z1 continued to explain.

“Oh God,” Artemis’ voice broke. She could feel herself start to panic now. “Shit, don’t panic,” she told herself.

“What do we do?” Liam asked, already consumed in the panic Artemis was fighting.

“We need to warn them as soon as possible, and by the sounds of things, we need to get you out of here,” Z1 suggested. Artemis looked up to him quickly, realizing he was right. She moved across the room quickly to her desk, grabbing out the Deliverer and her PipBoy, something she hadn’t worn five months.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked her as she made her way back into her bedroom to grab her lab coat and heels.

“We’re leaving, _now_. Put your helmet back on,” she told Liam sternly before walking over to her terminal. She hadn’t spoken with the Railroad since she had killed High Rise, however she couldn’t risk leaving it behind. She wiped the memory before turning to Z1.

“I want it crashed, destroyed, understand?” She said to Z1, who nodded. “Don’t risk trying to get to Liam’s terminals, the SRB may already have them.”

“Of course. But how do you plan on getting out of the Institute?” He asked in return.

“Walk out, hope nobody takes a second glance. If we move quickly we shouldn’t be noticed.” Artemis was already heading for her door. “Follow me, don’t respond to anyone,” she told both of the men and they did as they were told. Artemis slipped on her heels before leaving her room for the last time. She led them confidently down the spiral staircase to the main floor of the Institute. Her luck struck when she spotted two scientists talking in the lounge area, one of their tablets left open on a table near their seats. With ease, Artemis swiped it and hid it in her coat until the three of them were out of sight.

“Can you create a distraction?” Artemis handed the tablet to Liam who nodded. She led them to the main elevator then, just as a rush of security and a few coursers headed off to the Bio Science wing, shouting about gorillas.

“Not sure how long that’ll give us,” Liam handed the tablet to Z1.

“We just need two minutes,” Artemis said as the elevator began to ascend up to the relay room. It was thankfully deserted as the trio reached it.

“Where are we going?” Liam asked, taking off his helmet and gloves to reveal a pale face and shaking hands.

“Bunker Hill,” Artemis hardly thought on it. “It’s as close as we can get to HQ without giving away it’s location,” she explained as he and Z1 prepped the relay, like they had so many times before.

“Okay...Okay got it,” Liam struggled to type with his trembling fingers but managed to set the location as Z1 finished prepping the relay.

“You two must hurry,” Z1 told them as Liam struggled to pull his gloves back on and Artemis grabbed the helmet he nearly forgot.

“Get out of here, Z1,” Liam told him.

“As soon as you’re out,” Z1 responded. “Farewell friends.”

“Hey,” Artemis stopped before entering the relay room. “I’m coming back for you, I promise,” she told him sincerely and Z1’s worried expression relaxed some. “I’ll come back for all of you. Be ready.”

“I’ll spread word to await your return, Artemis,” Z1 nodded and she tried to smile, standing next to Liam and grabbing onto his hand. A moment later, with much more finesse and sophistication than what Tinker Tom had managed to build, Artemis was blinded by white, finally leaving the Institute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it ended kind of abruptly. I think I mentioned before that this chapter ended up being ridiculously long, so I had to find a place to cut it into two. I'm editing the second half now, and I'll update again as soon as that's finished.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis and Liam warn the Railroad of an impending attack.

In an instant, Liam and Artemis were free of the Institute. Artemis felt the Commonwealth hit her all at once, the heat, the smell, the sight of the grimy, rickety old bar owned by Joe Savoldi. The sudden appearance of Artemis and Liam at the bar startled the caravan guards who were previously enjoying their break, as well as the old bar keep and his son. In a split second Artemis and Liam had about seven guns on them.

“ _Inside_ Bunker Hill?” Artemis rose both of her hands immediately, figuring she could only get out two or three shots off with Deliverer before both her and Liam were gunned down. “You put us inside Bunker Hill?” She asked him, keeping her eyes on the several guns pointed at her, ignoring the stammers and questions from the people pointing them.

“What the Hell is going on?” Artemis heard Kessler shout from their left.

“Thank God, Kessler,” Artemis relaxed, “Do you have a Geiger counter?” Artemis wasn’t sure if that was still the Railroad’s countersign or not.

The look on Kessler’s face a second after the question left Artemis had her gut twisting. “Mine is in the shop, what the fuck is going on?” Kessler walked briskly over to her and Liam. “Put those away!” She shouted to the patrons at the bar.

Artemis grabbed onto the older woman and hugged her awkwardly, whispering into her ear. “The Brotherhood found HQ, I need to warn them and all I have is a pistol,” Artemis failed to quickly come up with some sort of covert speech.

“I don’t have much,” Kessler pulled away, speaking just as quietly. “Come with me. Who is the boy?” She asked, eyeing Liam, who was doe eyed and shaking worse than he was in the Institute. Artemis handed him his helmet and he took it and put it over his head like it would shield him.

“He’s a Synth,” Artemis followed Kessler, Liam hot on her heels, to Kessler’s home.

“Like I said, I don’t have much. Two Stealthboys, a pipe rifle,” Kessler offered and Artemis accepted them. “Got four plasma mines.”

Artemis stared at them for a moment, not a fan of how messy they could get, before taking the bag that Kessler handed her with the mines inside. “Any more ammo for the rifle?” Artemis asked, checking the magazine and realizing there were only seven .45 rounds inside.

“Not unless you’re going to swipe some from Cricket,” the older woman crossed her arms.

“Thank you, I’ll make sure you’re paid back,” Artemis tried handing the rifle to Liam, who refused to take it, manically shaking his head.

“Just make sure there aren’t any coursers that come snooping because of you two. We can’t pay them off like we’ve been paying the caravan spies,” Kessler explained.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Artemis hung the rifle over her shoulder instead and grabbed once more for Liam’s hand. “C’mon, we need to go.”

Artemis rushed out of Bunker Hill, knowing that anyone who saw them was a possible liability when the Institute came after them.

“Oh my God,” Liam gagged, stunned as she led him towards the bridge to cross over the Charles river. The pungent, stale stench of the water and debris shocked them both. Artemis was reminded of her journey trying to get to Diamond City for the first time and how she could barely breathe with her hand clamped over her nose and mouth. “It’s all... It’s...” Liam stuttered as he took in more of the scenery, sunken boats, dilapidated buildings, huge debris pules, the tops of Boston’s skyscrapers that were now just skeletons of steel against the cerulean backdrop of sky.

“It’s all dead,” Artemis told him, looking back as they began to cross the bridge, before she scanned the area. Immediately, she remembered to be wary of walking out in the open like they were with no cover. There were no immediate threats, no raiders, no Mirelurks scuttling towards them. Artemis tripped over her heels however, as she looked to her left, towards the harbor and the Atlantic Ocean, and the Prydwen. Immediately she saw that there were four Vertibirds heading straight towards the church.

“Oh shit,” she steadied herself before turning around and attaching one of the Stealthboys to Liam’s waist. “Don’t look down, don’t try to look for your feet,” she looked up to Liam, her reflection showing in his helmet. “You’ll trip and fall and I could lose you for an hour,” Artemis attached the second Stealthboy to her own waist, quoting what Deacon had told her the first time she had used one.

“W-what?” Liam asked in confusion as Artemis bent down to take off her heels. She had gotten better at walking around in them with her months in the Institute, but she’d twist her ankles in two seconds if she tried to run in them, especially with a Stealthboy.

“Hold these, and hold onto me,” she gave her heels to Liam, easily four inches shorter now and standing below the height of his shoulders. “We have to run,” she added, grabbing onto his arm tightly before activating both of their Stealthboys.

“I-I can’t, oh my God, holy shit!” Liam stammered as Artemis tried to pull him along.

“Look forward, not down,” she told him and was able to get him into a brisk jog, verbally directing him as well as pulling him along to the church.

“Stay quiet,” she slowed them down as the reached the statue in front of the church. Artemis noted two of the Vertibirds circling above, small parties of the Brotherhood getting ready to land. She didn’t waste time looking for the other two. “Inside, quick,” she pulled Liam to the door and closed it behind them. She let go of Liam’s arm then, awkwardly feeling him without being able to see, so she could turn off his Stealthboy.

“Not so bad, right?” Artemis turned hers off as well and Liam didn’t answer her directly.

“You shouldn’t be walking around barefoot-”

The unmistakable sound of power armor landing outside caused them both to jump, cutting Liam off. “Go, hurry!” Artemis ushered him forward, barely getting him through the door to the staircase before the second Brotherhood party utilized the giant hole in the roof of the church for a quick entry. She pressed her ear to the closed door but couldn’t make out much of what was said with her own heart pounding in her ears.

“Artemis!” Liam whispered, looking like he wanted to take off running down to the crypt without her.

“Hold on,” she said and pulled one of the mines out of the bag carefully, and placed in in a position so the door would hit it when opened, not giving the Brotherhood any reaction time. She slowly pressed the button to arm it and made sure it stayed depressed as she let go, before cautiously backing away, afraid the vibrations from her turning and sprinting may set it off.

“Okay, go!” She said once she was a good six feet away.

“I can’t see anything down here,” Liam complained, trying to follow Artemis down the staircase while struggling to get his helmet off with his one free hand, Artemis’ heels still held in his other.

“Here,” she said, turning the light on from her Pipboy, the green drowning the darkness around them.

“Where are we?” Liam asked as they entered the crypt.

“Under the church, we’re in some old catacombs,” Artemis explained, pulling him along before a loud explosion went off above them, the plasma mine. “Liam, go!” she pointed down the corridor they were in, pulling out another one of the mines.

“I can’t see anything,” Liam complained again, struggling just to feel his way forward without Artemis and her light.

“I’ll be right there, just go straight,” she directed, doing her best to strategically place the three mines she had left before catching up with Liam. Surprisingly he had gotten farther than she thought he would just by feeling along the walls.

“Wrong way,” she grabbed onto him as he ended up in a corner. Holding his hand again, she ran with him down the catacombs to the entrance of the Railroad HQ. She let go of Liam to turn off her PipBoy as they entered the room where she had first been confronted by Desdemona, Glory, Drummer Boy, and Deacon.

“Through this door here,” she reached the entrance first. Catching her breath while waiting for Liam, she grabbed onto him again before leading him inside.

“Desdemona!” She called out announcing their presence before anybody could even see them. “Des, the Brotherhood of Steel found us!”

The collective faces that Artemis saw once she made it down the stairs were a mix of shocked and confused. The only movement, however was Glory’s immediate reaction to aim her mini gun at Liam’s unknown face. A few more agents around her had the same thought, their pistols and rifles drawn as well.

Artemis pushed Liam back into the stairwell, yelling “He’s Patriot! He’s Patriot!”

“I thought you were dead? What about the Institute?” Glory asked, lowering her weapon along with the rest of the agents who drew theirs. Artemis only blinked at her, the statement catching her off guard. The last message she sent was harrowing, sure, but it definitely didn’t make her sound dead.

“Wanderer, what are you doing here?” Desdemona’s voice cut through the crypt over everyone else, snapping her mind back to the now.

“I don’t have time to explain,” Artemis walked forward, dragging Liam behind her. “The Brotherhood are up top, everyone here needs to leave _now_.”

Desdemona was speechless for a moment, shocked, before looking angry. “I need everyone out of here five minutes ago! Move your asses!” She called and immediately the HQ was in a frenzy.

“There’s another way out of here, right?” Liam asked from behind Artemis, leaning down to her ear so he wouldn’t have to shout over the sudden commotion.

Artemis began to turn around and face Liam so she could answer about the escape tunnel, however another hand grabbed onto her arm and spun her around. Immediately she recognized the scent of Abraxo and cigarettes, and she was able to catch a flash of her own face in mirrored sunglasses before Deacon rushed his lips onto hers. She was thrown off for a second before letting go of Liam’s hand and throwing her arms around Deacon. It was clear by the way he held her and the way his lips moved against hers that he was starved for this, and Artemis reacted accordingly.

“What are you doing?” Deacon mumbled against her lips the ever present stubble on his face scratching at her chin, before pulling back to look at her.

“What are _you_ doing?” Artemis asked back, fixing her glasses that had come askew. Her mind was working overtime to come back to reality, realizing notably that they were in the middle of an ambush from the Brotherhood of Steel.

“I think we need to bring each other up to speed,” Deacon smiled at her, not completely letting go of her as he pulled her towards the escape tunnel, “But we should probably wait until we aren’t being surprise fucked by the Brotherhood of Bigots.”

“Good idea,” Artemis agreed before looking quickly towards the main entrance, noticing a similar moment shared between Drummer Boy and Glory. “You have to explain that too,” Artemis pointed and Deacon laughed.

“Oh, you’re gonna love that story,” Deacon continued on, however Artemis noted something else.

“Liam?” She asked as he stood in the same spot just staring at her and Deacon. “ _Liam_!” She shouted, pulling back on Deacon’s hand so he would stop, while holding out her own free hand for Liam.

“Right,” he snapped out of his daze and rushed forward, grabbing onto her. Artemis immediately noticed Deacon’s grip tighten on her, almost painfully, before he led them both forward.

As the trio came into the escape tunnel, they were among other Railroad agents funneling into a blockage. “What’s going on?” Deacon asked over everyone. Artemis stood on her tiptoes behind Deacon to try and see what was happening, and felt the dirt below her dig into the balls of her bare feet.

“What’s wrong?” Drummer Boy caught up with them, Tinker Tom in tow. Artemis looked from him and Tom to Liam, who was still a nervous wreck.

“We should have stayed in bed,” she told him.

“I’m never forcing myself out of bed again,” Liam agreed, glancing up from Artemis to the exit, easily able to view the end of the tunnel where Artemis could not.

An uneasy hush crept over the crowd and Artemis turned back around to Deacon in front of her. “I don’t like this, they can’t get the door open,” Deacon leaned close to her. Under his words, she could make out a soft beeping. The sound was out of place, even slightly confusing, before Artemis recognized what it was from. Her eyes shot to Deacon’s sunglasses, wide and horrified.

“Move,” her voice failed her as she stepped backwards, Liam’s body stopping her from getting out of the tunnel.

“Everyone get out of the tunnel!” Deacon shouted for her and pushed her backwards.

“Everybody move, get back!” Drummer Boy added. The agents caught in the tunnel began forcefully pushing back towards the crypt, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere. It got to the point where Artemis felt like she wasn’t trying to walk back to the entrance but that she was floating, sandwiched between Liam and Deacon and at least three other agents with her feet barely touching the ground.

The explosion that was suddenly anticipated hit with a violent shock wave and burst of heat, Artemis’ mind being thrown back to standing on the platform of Vault 111 with Nate taking Shaun out of her shaking hands. The ringing in her ears matched what she felt that day and Artemis gasped for air, forcing her panic down. She knew without looking back that at least two thirds of the agents were either dead or incapacitated by the blast and would soon be killed by the Brotherhood that would flood in through the open hole.  
Without much thought, since her brain had stalled, Artemis withdrew Deliverer from her waist and turned around to aim down the hall, while Deacon wrapped his arms around her and carried her forward. She couldn’t hear her gun firing, but she lined up the sights with the knights that were pouring into the tunnel.

She had fired all twelve rounds off in a quick and deadly succession, before Deacon got her out of the hallway. The two of them crashed to the ground behind the round, stone table Desdemona spent most of her time at, using it for cover

“Liam, stay down!” She yelled, barely able to hear herself and found him with Drummer Boy and Tinker Tom between Tom’s terminal, a stone casket, and a wall. “Do you have any forty-fives?” She then asked Deacon, looking to him. She couldn’t hear his reply but saw him shake his head “no”. “Shit,” she hissed, pulling the strap to the rifle off of her and shouldering it’s stock. The seven rounds she had were quickly spent, dropping two knights that had made their way down the hall, before she ducked back under her cover. 

“I’m out,” she said, leaning her back against the stone table and looking around for the godsend of a stray, fully loaded gun. Or missile launcher. Or, better yet, a Fatman.

“Wasn’t exactly packing myself,” she heard Deacon reply through the ringing in her ears.

“We need to do something fast, or else we’re just cattle waiting for slaughter,” Artemis responded and looked over to Tom and Drummer Boy again. Liam was flat on his stomach, his hands over his ears. “Forty-Five?” She held her rifle out, trying to get Tom’s attention, since Drummer Boy was currently providing the main fire support with a measly pipe pistol, along with two more agents who were further down the room. Everyone else was either hiding or dead.

Tom pointed in response, saving his voice, and Artemis followed his finger to the godsend she was looking for. “Deacon, I need a distraction. _Now_.” She turned back to him, kissing him quickly on the cheek before getting into a crouching position, ready to sprint to the other end of the room towards Tom, Drummer Boy, and Liam.

“I-I...” Deacon started, realizing that Artemis wasn’t giving him any time. “Whoa, Whoa! Everybody stop!” He yelled as loudly as he could and surprisingly, as Artemis darted off across the room, the gunfire had ceased for a split second. “I got a splinter!” He laughed at the stupidity of the situation, feeling relief once Artemis was back under cover.

“I need a gun for Deacon,” Artemis told Tom, kneeling low to the ground.

“Here,” Tom handed her a revolver and an ammo bag. “Shoots explosive rounds.”

Artemis looked up from the off-looking ammunition in the bag to Tinker Tom. “Tom, no matter what anyone says about you, you’re fucking brilliant.”

“And why don’t I have the explosive gun?” Drummer Boy finished off the clip in his pipe pistol and reloaded, hiding behind a pillar.

“Deacon’s a better shot,” Artemis teased him, tossing the empty gun to Deacon, who caught it. She tossed the ammo bag next and he caught that as well, quickly loading the gun.

“You’re gonna need this also, I was working on it for Glory but...” Tom opened up a footlocker near his mattress and pulled out a heavier looking version of armor that Glory usually wore.

“This thing weighs sixty pounds Tom, holy fuck,” Artemis struggled into the armor, not liking how much it restricted her movement.

“Fifty,” Tom corrected her, “Before the leg guards. Then it’s more like eighty.” Artemis’ jaw fell open. She wasn’t sure if she could even stand up, then again she used to haul that much junk all over the Commonwealth five months ago. 

“She looks like she weighs eighty pounds, Tinker. Hell,” Drummer Boy shook his head.

“I do not weigh eighty pounds,” Artemis snapped back.

“B-but nothing’s gonna touch you, you’ll be a tank,” Tom continued. “I’ll grab the rifle.”

“An eighty pound, five foot tall, tank,” Drummer Boy continued poking his head and pistol around the pillar once more, while Tom left to get the gun Artemis need.

“This tank is gonna save your ass, Drummer Boy,” Artemis teased him back, struggling into the leg guards before looking to Liam. “You doing okay?” She asked him.

“I haven’t shit my pants yet so I think we’re doing good,” he answered in a frightened tone.

“This’ll be over in a minute, just hold on,” she reassured him as Tom came back with the gun and cartridges of ammo.

“This baby is completely modded, Hell of a kick though so hold her firm or else she’ll go flying,” Tom told her, loading the rifle. “Shoot one of these babies before?”

“No, gimme a five second crash course,” Artemis took the gun from him.

“Safety, ammo goes in this way, pull the trigger to shoot, hold the trigger to charge,” Tom explained quickly, pointing to what he was talking about.

“Got it. Liam I need your helmet,” she said and Liam held it out to her, still lying on the floor. “Help me up,” she said and Tom pushed her back, Drummer Boy grabbing onto her free hand and standing to pull her up.

“Good luck,” he added sincerely as Artemis forced the Synth helmet over her head with one hand.

“Kick some ass, Wanderer,” Tom agreed and Artemis shouldered the heavy Gauss rifle, aiming as she stepped around the pillar and shooting the first Brotherhood soldier she saw. She realized then that Tom wasn’t kidding about the kick, the gun wanted to fly out of her hands and nearly knocked her backwards.

All laser fire was focused suddenly on her and the armor she was wearing grew hot, but she didn’t feel pain. Whatever targets she hadn’t aimed at yet had to take cover from Deacon’s explosive revolver, mattresses in the tunnel where the Brotherhood were coming in were lighting fire and keeping them mostly at bay.

Like she had told Liam, the fight lasted only another minute at most, before there was a pile of Brotherhood corpses before her. “I think we’re good!” Deacon called out the all clear before standing up. “Can I keep this gun, Tom?”

Tom didn’t seem to hear Deacon’s question as he ran up to Artemis, “Did it work? Are you hurt?”

“Get this off me now,” she shoved the Gauss rifle to Deacon who joined them before pulling the helmet off her head and trying to squirm out of the armor.

“We aren’t out of the woods yet,” Desdemona came from the opposite side of the room, Carrington and PAM trailing behind her. “There’s still the Brotherhood in the church and we can’t be sure the escape tunnel is safe.”

“Essentially we’re trapped,” Carrington agreed with her.

Artemis, who was still struggling out of the armor looked from them and then back to Tom. “There’s no way anyone can wear this longer than two minutes. You’re better off fixing it onto a power armor frame.”

“Glory would wear it...” Drummer Boy came out of hiding as well, Liam following him like a frightened puppy. Artemis caught how his voice faded away and her eyebrows pushed together.

“Hey, I mean if we’re trapped... Why’s it so quiet?” Deacon asked, realizing the silence like Drummer Boy and Artemis had. Complete silence fell around the surviving twelve or so Railroad agents, even those already in mourning for the freshly dead.

“Oh fuck,” Drummer Boy breathed and Artemis looked towards the entrance to HQ, where Glory and a few other agents had left to try and hold off the assault. “Glory?” He called out, breaking into a sprint.

Artemis grabbed the Gauss rifle back from Deacon and ran after Drummer Boy, Deacon following closely. “Liam, stay here!”

“Wait,” Desdemona called after the three agents, trying to stop them. “Wait!”

The three agents were already up the stairs and out the door, Drummer Boy in the lead. Artemis had the Gauss rifle shouldered and her aim was focused around the corners that she rounded, with Deacon at her back and his pistol ready.

“Glory? Glory, oh fuck baby, look at me,” Artemis heard Drummer Boy and felt a cold foreboding trickle down her spine.

“Shit,” Deacon grabbed a hold of Artemis as they came upon a scene worse than in the HQ itself. The floor was littered with bodies, Brotherhood and Railroad alike. Leaned up against the far wall was Glory, a gaping and bloody hole in her side.

“None of them got past us,” Glory choked, her eyes focusing on Drummer Boy.

“Get Carrington!” Drummer Boy turned back to the pair of agents, Artemis and Deacon both lowering their guns in horrified awe.

“Hey Doc?” Deacon called back the way they came as Artemis moved down to where Glory was. “Carrington, get out here!” Deacon called louder and ran back to the door leading to HQ.

Artemis moved closer to the agents instead of turning back, and caught the tail end of what Drummer Boy was saying to Glory. “You’re gonna be fine, we’ll survive this,” he told her, one of his hands holding hers and the other on her face.

She looked from him to Artemis, visibly pale and shaking. “Deacon’s getting Dr. Carrington. You’ll be okay, Glory,” Artemis stood before them on the ground, clutching the rifle like it would give her some comfort. “You’ve seen worse.”

“Gave that courser a run for his money,” Glory agreed, trying to smile. “We all thought you were dead.”

“Not yet,” Artemis forced a smile back.

“Help me get this off of her,” Drummer Boy asked and Artemis leaned the rifle against the wall next to Glory before kneeling down and trying to get her armor off. Memories flooded her, remembering the panic she felt in the elevator at Ticon when Glory had started to black out.

“Damn,” Glory sucked in a breath, “that stings... Wanderer,” Glory tried to regain Artemis’ attention.

“Where the Hell is Carrington?” Drummer Boy looked back towards the hall leading to HQ as they struggled Glory out of her armor.

“Listen,” Glory grabbed onto Artemis, forcing her attention once more. “The Railroad is always sitting on it’s hands. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened.” Artemis’ hazel blue eyes were locked onto Glory’s face, “Promise me you’ll free them, all of them.” Glory’s voice was weak and Artemis understood that she was giving up, no matter how much she wanted to keep her going. Drummer Boy, however, wasn’t ready to accept it yet.

“No,” he said forcing Glory to look at him, both of his hands on her face now. “No, you’re going to free the Synths with us. You’ll be there.”

“I love you,” Glory responded to Drummer Boy and Artemis’ breath caught in her throat, forming a painful lump. Artemis pushed off the ground, hearing quick footsteps running back towards them and she stepped backwards. A sudden wave of goosebumps washed over her skin as she watched the two lovers.

“Let me see,” Dr. Carrington rushed past her, but he was too late. She felt a hand on her shoulder, someone standing next to her, and Artemis was surprised when she turned to see Liam instead of Deacon through the tears in her eyes.

“Hey,” he said quietly, drowned out by Drummer Boy frantically calling Glory’s name.

Artemis unclenched her hands, realizing she had them fisted at her sides, and swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked up to Liam’s face. “Get back into the Institute,” she told him pulling him into a quick hug before taking his Stealthboy. “Get back to Z1 and the others and get them out.” She let go of Liam then so she could place his Stealthboy next to hers, with them both she’d have close to a full charge.

“What?” Liam asked, his eyes wide as he watched her.

“Do it,” she said before disappearing.

“Artemis?” He called out in alarm.

From the other side of the room, where he was trying to ignore the exchange between them, Deacon’s jaw clenched. “Don’t call her-- Where is she?” He asked quickly, jumping down to the same level.

Liam just looked at him dumbly, “I-I don’t-- She took the thing,” Liam pointed to his hip and Deacon wanted to punch him.

“What?” His tone was sharp, before he looked towards Glory and saw that the Gauss rifle was gone, as well as Glory’s mini gun. “Fuck,” he drew his gun and looked around the room again, already knowing she wouldn’t be there.

“Wanderer!” He called and quickly booked it towards the catacombs.

“Wait!” Liam called after him quickly.

“Deacon, no!” Desdemona scolded him as well, the rest of the agents filing out after her. Deacon didn’t pay them attention, and only wished he had a Stealthboy of his own.

“Hey, she laid down mines!” Liam shouted louder and that actually caused Deacon to stop, standing near the password decoder ring. Through the catacombs he could already hear Artemis ripping the Brotherhood a new one with Glory’s mini gun. Deacon didn’t have much time, if he hesitated he’d be in the same position as Drummer Boy. He took off the sunglasses he had on and shoved them into his jean’s pocket before continuing on, hoping he’d be able to spot the dim lights on any mines.

Deacon crawled along agonizingly slow, following the sound of a mini gun and occasionally a Gauss rifle firing. Eventually he was following a trail of Brotherhood bodies that had been ripped to shreds. By the time he made it to the stairs leading up to the church the gunfire had ceased.

“Wanderer?” He called out hesitantly, taking the stairs slowly, only to find more corpses. “Wanderer, answer me!”

He made his way up into the church and found her checking the bodies around her. Deacon felt relief, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “What the Hell, Artemis?!” Deacon called out to her, pulling his sunglasses out of his pocket and putting them on. “What the fuck were you thinking?” She ignored him and Deacon realized she wasn’t looting but she was checking faces, frantically pulling headgear off of all the bodies and helmets off the ones in power armor.

“Artemis,” he called again, much closer and saw that she was limping. “Hold up,” he jogged the rest of the way to her, realizing that she was in hysterics and grabbed onto her.

“No! No! I killed him!” Artemis tried to fight Deacon off.

“You can’t move around on that leg,” He told her, pulling out the Stimpak he grabbed for Glory and shoving it into Artemis’ bare thigh, just below the hem of her dress.

“I killed him! He’s dead!” Artemis struggled and Deacon wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“Who?” Deacon asked her, his lips pressed into her hair. It had grown longer since the last time he’d seen her. “Who’s dead?”

“I killed Danse,” she cried and Deacon shook his head. “I killed him, Danse is dead!”

“Stop,” Deacon held Artemis tighter, her back against his chest. “Stop, Danse isn’t here. The panic will fade and you’re going to feel numb, just give it a minute.”

Despite the warning of landmines, Deacon saw the remnants of the Railroad HQ begin to shuffle into the church. “Tom, take off his helmet,” Deacon gestured with his head, but Artemis was already pointing to the corpse.

“What am I lookin’ for?” Tom asked, looking around at the annihilation Artemis left upon the Brotherhood who came to wipe the Railroad out.

Deacon hesitated, looking from Artemis and then to Desdemona who had just entered, with Carrington and Liam behind her. “M7-97. The one Des had a crush on, remember?”

“ _Deacon_!” Desdemona’s voice made him flinch. “There’s still the birds outside and we don’t know if there’s reinforcements, I don’t have time for this--”

“She’s _done_ , Desdemona. Look what she did for you. I got the Vertibirds taken care of.” Drummer Boy was last in, his voice sullen as he picked up a convenient missile launcher one of the Brotherhood knights had dropped in Artemis’ assault.

Deacon held his tongue instead of backing him up, and looked at Artemis once more. “M7-97?” She asked, hysteria fading from her face rapidly. Frighteningly, Deacon was right. She had began to feel a numbness creep in and spread across her, the initial rage and subsequent guilt and panic fading away into... nothing.

“I can explain it later,” Deacon mumbled as she turned around in his arms and hugged him. Deacon rested his chin on top of her head and held her tightly. He felt lucky to do so, after seeing Glory pass. The luckiness, however, didn’t bring him any peace of mind, it only made him feel terrified.

“M7’s not here,” Tom looked around the church at the annihilation Artemis had caused on her own, “but damn, have you seen this?”

“Yeah, Tom, I’m standing in the middle of it,” Deacon answered, failing at not sounding annoyed. Deacon was trying to ignore the bodies, fighting to keep memories of slaughtering the UP Deathclaws locked away in the far reaches of his mind.

“We can’t stay here. They’re only going to send reinforcements, so if we hunker down now we’ll be waiting for death,” Carrington was talking to Desdemona, distracting her from Artemis and Drummer Boy, who had headed for the stairs to the church steeple.

“Then where do we go?” Desdemona asked the doctor. “Certainly not Bunker Hill. Ticon is gone. Randolph is abandoned. The next closest Safe House is Mercer and it’s across the Commonwealth.”

“Preston,” Deacon suggested, “At the castle.”

“The Minutemen?” Des asked him, questioning his judgment.

“We’re friends-”

“Hancock is closer. Goodneighbor is our best bet,” Artemis spoke up, still clutching onto Deacon. “I can get him to agree to let us operate from there for a bit.” She sounded robotic almost, bare logic and no emotion.

“The Brotherhood can’t attack a town, even one like Goodneighbor. It’ll start a war with the Commonwealth,” Dr. Carrington agreed thoughtfully.

Desdemona didn’t look happy, but her decision was made quickly when a loud explosion shook what was left of the church, signaling one of the Vertibirds crashing. “Get him to agree, then light a signal. Nobody travels alone from this point on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The funny thing is, the playthrough I did with Artemis was the "peaceful" ending so both the Railroad and Brotherhood are still alive. Except everyone in the Railroad thinks Glory is dead although she just wanders around and smokes, and I have two Elder Maxsons up on the Prydwen. So Artemis never got to avenge Glory like this.


End file.
